


You Can Keep Me (Inside The Pocket Of Your Ripped Jeans)

by noos



Category: Football RPF
Genre: AU, David Alaba is my precious little cookie, F/M, I can't explain this, I don't know, M/M, That is all I have to say, tw - foster homes and very (very) brief mention of child abuse, tw - orphans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 21:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3870376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noos/pseuds/noos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's on one of his morning runs sometime around his second week on the island when he sees him for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Keep Me (Inside The Pocket Of Your Ripped Jeans)

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no excuse for this except that I miss Mario and Marco so much that these things just keep spilling out of me. 
> 
> This was completely unexpected and it was definitely not meant to be this long but one storyline developed into multiple others and all these characters I love kept wanting to be included and it spanned into this.
> 
> Please know that I've never been to Ibiza so excuse any inaccuracies when it comes the island. I just went along with my idea of an island and included anything I needed on there, that's how much I suck.
> 
> Oh, and in my head, Marco's music is somewhere between Ed Sheeran and Hozier.
> 
> Title from the amazing Ed Sheeran song.

In hindsight, asking Mats to plan his very much needed vacation was not Marco's smartest idea. Honestly, even if he was his manager and best friend, their ideas of 'fun' have started differing so much over the years Marco thinks they might as well be opposites. 

He was looking forward for some downtime after his third world tour in under five years, excited about the prospect of just sitting down and doing nothing, catching up with Benni and Manu, lounging on a beach somewhere on some tiny island no one knew of. Instead, Mats had rented him the biggest mansion smack in the middle of fucking Ibiza in the middle of motherfucking July. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, he'd rented him a yacht and had proceeded to plan a freaking party every single night of the week. 

Don't get him wrong, Marco loves having Mats around. He wouldn't trade him for the world. They've always balanced each other out perfectly, Mats bringing Marco out of his shell when the introvert in him threatened to take over and Marco curbing Mats' larger-than-life tendencies when he was about to go overboard. Well, more overboard than renting a mansion and a yacht on the world's most renowned party island. But truth is, Marco's more than happy to be able to give Mats that. The boy has taken care of him all his life. They grew up together and they struggled to survive together, Mats taking it upon himself to take care of Marco when they'd finally escaped their third foster home, and when that talent agent fished Marco out of that dingy pub he was playing and flew him and his guitar to some studio in New York, Marco never for a second hesitated to tow Mats along, because it was either both of them or no one. He'd officially introduced him as his manager when they'd had the official meeting with the CEO of his new label, tattered jeans and stained shirt and all, and that was that.

It's on days like these, however, when Marco's locked himself in his room - it's hardly fair to call it a room, if he's being perfectly honest, it's bigger than their first and second foster homes pushed together - on the second floor of the extravagant mansion they're staying at while the party rages downstairs, that he really understands just how little he and Mats have in common. 

He sighs as he peeks out the window, taking over the string of people littering the entrance of the house all the way to the dock leading up to the yacht where some world famous DJ's spinning his decks like he owns the world. 

He's too damn young to be this jaded, he knows, and it's definitely too damn early for someone to be throwing up in the rosebushes already. He wrinkles his nose at the girl, all done up in her glittery bikini and jewel-encrusted heels, and who would've thought, under all those layers of makeup and hairspray she looks just as disgusting emptying the contents of her stomach as anyone else. 

He sighs again before he moves away from the window and to his bed. Mats is bound to come find him soon, to drag him out into the party and force a drink down his throat. Benni will eventually come by with a girl straight out of a Victoria's Secret catalog who's dying to meet the famous Marco Reus because she wants nothing more than to rescue him from the demons of his past.

Marco rolls his eyes just thinking about that. Naturally, his label jumped at the chance to sell him as the struggling musician who was orphaned at seven and out on the streets by the time he was twelve. The funny thing is it's his real life, and he doesn't regret one bit of it. It gave him Mats if nothing else, but sometimes he finds himself wishing he had a less trying past, if only to keep the press from exploiting it. 

Thank fuck for Manu who will eventually find him and pretend he's hammered and depressed and contemplating ending his life. Marco will apologize to the girl, tell her he wishes they'd had more than fifteen minutes together but Manu is his most cherished friend and he needs him. The girl will smile and swoon, kiss him with a little too much enthusiasm and write her number on his wrist with a sharpie (Marco doesn't stop to wonder where the hell they get the sharpies from anymore.)

Marco will spend the rest of his night on his bed with Manu by his side, laughing at nothing until Mats and Benni eventually come to pass out on the bed with them, but not before they make out until Manu threatens to shave their hair when they're sleeping if they don't stop. Marco will laugh, Mats will look horrified and Benni will push his boyfriend off him and hold on to the few hairs he's got left.

\-----

He's taken to jogging down the beach every morning at dawn. 

When he'd woken up at 4 am on the second day of their stay, jet lag messing with his already fucked up internal clock, he'd tossed and turned in bed for a while, trying in vain to fall back asleep. He'd given up when he started rapping rhymes to Benni's snoring and had gone out for some fresh air. He'd wandered around until he found himself on the shore, sand tickling his toes and a slight breeze running through his hair and he just felt like he could breathe easier. He'd taken his iPod with him the next day, started jogging lightly along the shore, his feet dipping in the shallow water and his body at ease in the light air. 

It was the only time he could enjoy the island on his own, the only people awake at this hour either too old or too hungover to spare him a second glance. He'd go back to the mansion only when the sun rose, around the same time a new wave of excited tourists made their way to the beach everyday, colorful bikinis and tanned bodies on full display, and he'd always walk a little faster when he'd notice people starting to stare and camera phones flashing his way.  

He's on one of his morning runs sometime around his second week on the island when he sees him for the first time. 

It can't be later more than five yet, the sky still a faint blue grey color, the beach empty save for him and an old couple walking a bit further up hand in hand, straw hats propped on their heads and smiles perfectly matched. Marco smiles a little to himself, trying not to think about how in another universe, they could've been his grandparents. It doesn't make any sense, he's aware of that, but he can't keep his mind from running free sometimes. He shakes his head to clear it, lowering his gaze just as he's about to go past the couple. He focuses on his floral board shorts instead, his skin pale even against the shallow water. 

He only stops running when he knows they're long behind him, gulping for air, and he realizes he might've sprinted the last few meters. He stares at his tattooed arm as he stops in his tracks to catch his breath, the black ink a stark contrast to his pale skin in this light. He wraps his hand around his arm, his fingers grazing the tattooed names. He knows he's deluding himself, but he always feels some comfort knowing that his family's still there, still with him, literally etched into his skin wherever he goes. 

He finally starts walking again when he's caught his breath, and when he lifts his head back up he catches sight of a boy walking down the beach in a black hoodie three sizes too big and a pair of light green board shorts. He's typing furiously onto his phone, his hood hiding most of his face - seriously, who the fuck wears a hoodie in motherfucking Ibiza - and for some ridiculous reason Marco can't keep his eyes off him. The boy finally pulls his hood down, stashing the phone into his pocket and when he looks up, his smile is so bright, his teeth on full display and his eyes so alight with happiness, and for a second Marco panics so sure that he's missed the sun rising, that the crowds of tourists are about to scramble down the beach and he's nowhere near the house yet, but then he notices the sky a faint pink color still, the sun nowhere in sight, only the boy with the rosy cheeks and the sunny smile.

The boy stops walking all of a sudden, plops down in the middle of the beach, digging his toes in the sand, a smile still lighting his features, and it's only when their eyes meet that Marco realizes he's stopped walking as well and is staring openly now. The boy - Sunny, Marco decides - blushes an alarming shade of red when he notices Marco looking at him, averting his gaze and fishing his phone out of his pocket again.

Marco shakes himself out of his state, forcing his legs to move again. He takes one last look at the boy trying not to think about why his heart is beating so fast, before he jogs up to the house, head full of chubby cheeks and bright eyes.

\-----

He wakes up earlier than usual the next day, takes more time picking out his clothes - a pair of navy swim trunks that he knows fit him quite snuggly with a yellow cotton shirt - and spends way more time perfecting his hair in front of the mirror than he's done in the past few years. He laughs at his own ridiculousness as he walks out the door iPod in hand, doesn't remember the last time he felt this nervous about anything. 

There's always performing in front of a 25,000-strong crowd, but it's not the same thing. When he's on stage, it's a different kind of nervousness, a worry of sorts about losing himself in the grandeur of it all, a fear of letting the fact that all of these people are here for him sink in to the point of no return. 

But what he feels right now is entirely different, an excited kind of scared, an anticipation unsettling only in the fact that he hasn't felt it for anything in a long time.

_You might not even see him today_ , his mind screams at him, but even so he can't get himself to relax.

His mood starts turning sour, however, when almost an hour passes and still no sight of the boy with the sunny smile. Marco's already run twice as many laps as the usual by the time the first tourists start filtering in, and he stalls for longer than he usually allows himself hoping for a glimpse of him. He eventually gives up when the crowds gathering on the shore start getting thicker, an unwelcome wave of humiliation washing over him when he realizes the true extent of his desperation. 

He's hurrying to get to the house without being recognized when he allows himself to look around momentarily and his breath catches in his throat. Sunny's making his way over to the beach, paddle board in hand, that blinding smile in full view as he walks between two boys that look around his age. He's ditched his hoodie for a purple shirt that fits him just right, loose enough to not look trashy but tight enough to show off his clearly toned arms. Marco swallows thickly when he takes him in again, orange swim trunks and tan legs and all, having forgotten just how beautiful the boy is, and he can't stop himself from smiling when he sees him laugh heartily at something one of his friends - the tall lanky one with the awkward limbs gesticulating all over the place and a goofy smile plastered on his face - says.

Sunny looks up suddenly, his eyes finding Marco's as if he'd felt him staring, his steps faltering for only a second. He holds Marco's gaze for a beat longer, offering a shy smile as his cheeks burn before he turns back to his friends. 

They've already found a spot on the beach by the time Marco realizes he must look like an idiot, standing in the middle of the pebble road that leads up to the rentals, a dumb smile on his face as he stares off into space. He can't even bring himself to feel bad about it however, a new spring in his step when he makes his way to the house. 

He's surprised to find Mats awake and camped out on the swing when he gets there, hands wrapped tightly around his coffee mug, his hangover clear on his face. Even the fact that he still looks like a Greek god despite his current state can't bother Marco right now.

"You look far too chirpy for 7 in the morning," Mats grumbles at him when he plops himself down next to him, the hint of a smile on his face.

"I thought you wanted me to have a good time."

"I do. But no one should look this happy when the sun's barely up. It's unnatural," he mutters, taking a sip of his coffee and eyeing Marco suspiciously.

"No good mood before 10 am," Marco states. "Got it," he continues, nodding his head dutifully. "What are you doing up anyway?"

"Manu thought it would be a good idea to sleep horizontally, because why not. So what if he's a giant who takes up all the space on the bed."

"Why didn't you just sleep in the next room?"

"I tried," Mats shrugs, thoroughly annoyed. "Can't sleep without Benni's snores anymore." Marco chuckles lightly and Mats looks at him with a disgusted air to him. "Perky son of a bitch," he mutters under his breath and Marco laughs even louder as he gets off the swing.

"Alright Matsi," he starts as he reaches out to ruffle his best friend's hair before making his way into the house. "I'm making omelets if you're up for it." He smiles to himself when he hears Mats grumble under his breath before following him back in.

"Can you put mushrooms in mine?"

\-----

He sees Sunny again the next day, already stretched out in the shallow waters by the time Marco makes it to the beach, his tan body on full display in nothing but a pair of black trunks. He stares for a lot longer than acceptable, taking in his caramel skin and defined stomach, trying to keep his thoughts from straying and willing his body to stay under control, to not let the heat pooling in his stomach take over him. Their eyes meet when the boy straightens up and turns to look at him, and Marco feels his heart skip a beat at the thought that he might've been waiting for him to show up. They smile at eachother, Marco almost giving in to the temptation to go over to him, when one of his friends from yesterday - the other one, the one with the ginger hair and pale skin - shows up out of nowhere and flanks himself down next to him. 

Marco startles at the sudden appearance, snapping out of his trance and turning on his heel to head back to the mansion before he can think on it. 

\-----

He's not there the next day and Marco feels his mood from the previous two days sour considerably.

He doesn't understand it, doesn't see how a person he doesn't really know can affect him so much, but he doesn't fight it either, allowing his bad mood to steer his day.

He spends the morning with his friends, scowling at their suggestions of going diving or getting lunch on the boat, and by noon he's already locked himself in his bedroom ready for the day to be over. He only comes out to steal some stale fries from the kitchen before he's back in the bedroom, shoveling the fries down his throat like they're the enemy.

He's standing at his window a few hours later, watching the people dancing in his front yard and on his boat and all the way in between when his heart threatens to leap out of his chest. Making his way towards the house is Sunny and Marco freezes to his spot for a second because he's in his house, before his legs finally catch up and he practically trips in his haste to get out of the room and head downstairs.  

He stops only when he's at the foot of the stairs, and only because the crowd already gathered there is substantially larger than he thought it would be. But then again he didn't really think about anything other than Sunny when he sprinted out of his bedroom. He stands awkwardly on the last step, his thin black muscle shirt - Marco laughs at Mats when he calls it a muscle shirt, because what muscle, he barely fills it out - and yellow trunks his only shield from the world, surveying the crowd and hoping no one recognizes him. A few people are already looking at him, but their drowsy eyes and flushed cheeks suggest they're mostly too high or too hammered already to really recognize him.

Still, he feels uncomfortable with so many eyes on him, and he's about to call it a night and head back upstairs when Sunny walks into the room, trying to shoulder his way through the thick crowd, stopping dead in his tracks when he finally spots Marco. They stand for a few seconds just staring at each other, Marco really taking in the boy that's captured his attention and consumed his thoughts the past few days. He's wearing a black thin shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of purple swimming shorts and white high tops. He's got dog tags around his neck, pretty similar to the ones currently hidden under Marco's collar, a backwards baseball cap propped carefully on his head, and a drink in hand.

Sunny shakes his head for a second, seemingly clearing it, and Marco feels his heart skip a beat or seven when that smile he's been dying to see finally lights up his features, albeit slightly more reserved than what he's seen on him. His cheeks flush as he waves awkwardly at Marco, and Marco only realizes he's made his way over to him when he stops right in front of him, really taking him in for the first time. He's so much more from this close, his caramel skin smoother than Marco envisioned, his smile brighter and his cheeks fuller. But he's also manlier despite his features, and Marco hates the word just thinking about it, but there's no other way to describe him. Not with the faint stubble on his chin, the strong lines of his neck or the clearly defined muscle under his shirt. 

"Hi," the boy finally lets out, his voice thicker and deeper than Marco imagined, but it suits him so well, especially the echoing laughter he swears he hears it in.

"Hi," Marco croaks back, and he can't even admonish himself for sounding so parched, too busy smiling and damn it, is he _blushing_ right now?

"You're the dude who wakes up at unnatural hours to run," he accuses, and Marco chuckles delightedly, his heart beating faster at the thought that Sunny knows him, has kept track of him as well.

"Guilty," Marco admits, mostly because he can't exactly say you're the guy with the sunny smile who's been on my mind since the moment you walked into my life in a hoodie in the middle of motherfucking Ibiza. "I didn't see you this morning," Marco says before he can stop himself, tempted to smack his head against the railing but Sunny only smiles wider and Marco's tempted to fist-bump the air instead.

"Yeah, jet lag finally seemed to wear off today, so I managed to get a few more hours of sleep," he shrugs, looking down and swirling the cup in his hands, the clear liquid sloshing up and down. A drop flies out of the plastic cup and onto Marco's shirt, and he realizes that maybe he's not the only nervous one here. "Shit-" Sunny curses, his eyes widening comically, his free hand reaching out before pulling back. "I'm so sorry-"

"Don't worry about it," Marco's quick to brush it off. "I've had much worse spilled down on me."

The boy chuckles before offering a hand to Marco. "Mario."

Marco grins, his heart racing in his chest because suddenly Sunny has a name and is real and this is actually happening.

"Marco." 

He reaches out to shake his hand, and this moment right here feels so surreal that he practically excepts to feel a shock or something like they describe in all those movies. He's almost disappointed when nothing happens except a sudden warmth that travels through his body as neither he nor Mario let go for a while. They're only brought back to earth when some drunk guy bumps into Mario forcing them apart, nearly knocking his drink out of his hand in the process, and Marco has to reach over and grab Mario's arm to keep him from falling. His arm feels strong under his grip, and Marco lets go quickly to stop himself from doing something stupid.

"Ugh," Mario groans, knocking back the last of his drink before pulling a face. "Sometimes I hate these kinda parties." 

"Why are you here then?" Marco asks, raising a curious eyebrow at the boy in front of him.

"My friends forced me to come along. Said it's not a proper vacation if we don't party every night."

"I can't believe you fell for that excuse," Marco teases and it earns him a low chuckle.

"I didn't, but my friend Ann kinda begged me to come, and I can't say no to her. She makes this impossible-to-say-no-to face, I'm serious," he insists when Marco laughs at him. "It's not possible to say no to her. Anyway, she wanted to come here because apparently some singer she really likes owns the place or something. She's hoping to like run into him." Marco freezes, an uneasy smile on his face, trying to disappear into the ground. "Didn't want to upset her, but what are the odds of her running into him when there's like a billion other people here," he shrugs. "Besides, he might not even be here. You never know with these stupid so-called musicians," Mario air quotes and it dawns on Marco that he has absolutely no idea who he is.

"Oh," he says dumbly. He thinks he should be more offended, Mario's just insulted him and questioned his authenticity as an artist, but didn't he  himself have exactly the same opinion on famous people before he became one of them? Besides, he kinda likes that Mario doesn't know him and oh, he just looked at him like he's trying to figure him out again and Marco can't breathe well enough to remember why he's supposed to be upset. 

"Yeah," Mario nods eventually, throwing his empty cup onto the littered counter right behind him and stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Anyway I lost them in the crowd somewhere."

Marco stares awkwardly at him for a second more, unsure of what to do. He should probably be honest here, tell Mario who he is, not start off on a lie. But he's not exactly lying here, is he? He's just not telling the whole story. Besides, there might not be anything to start in the first place. He's just met the boy, and just because his heart skips a beat every time he so much as looks at him, doesn't mean Mario thinks of this as anything more than meeting a stranger at a party.

"I can help you look for them?" Marco offers, deciding on something neutral. If Mario says yes to this, then his cover's going to be blown anyway.

Mario seems to think about it for a second, lowering his gaze to the ground. "Wanna get out of here instead?" 

Marco's eyes widen for a moment when Mario looks up at him, chubby cheeks flushed but a determined look on his face. He swallows thickly, his legs threatening to fold out under his weight, before he pulls himself together. "Yes," he manages to croak out, his voice barely above a whisper, but the smile on his face is nothing short of delirious.

Mario links their fingers together to pull Marco along as he shoulders his way through the crowd and towards the front door and Marco thinks he might faint. He has to actively remind himself as they're walking through the throng of people that he's not a twelve year old with a crush, and should under no circumstance be acting as such. Mario only lets go when they're outside, and Marco wants to reach out for him again, but stops himself when he notices Mats standing nearby. He gasps before taking off suddenly, not wanting his best friend to spot him, and Mario barks out a surprised laugh before he runs after him.

He doesn't stop running until he's far enough from the mansion, on the beach he likes so much, where there's a decidedly lower number of people. It's a lot darker around here, the moon casting its bright shadow on the beach, and Marco doesn't think it's clear enough for anyone to recognize him.

"You, you are-.." Mario struggles as he comes to a stop in front of him, leaning down to rest his hands on his knees and catch his breath. "Fast- a lot faster... Than, I- than I imagined."

Marco laughs loudly, louder than he's done in a long time. He can't remember the last time he felt this free, adrenaline running through his veins and blood pumping in his ears. He ruffles Mario's hair before he lies down on the sand, arms and legs spread apart, happy to just be able to be there and not get stared at by anyone. 

"Do you mind if I ask why we ran away like the house was on fire?" Mario asks after catching his breath, plopping down next to him and wrapping his arms around his knees. He rests his cheek atop one of his knees, peering at Marco from under his lashes, and Marco wonders if he's brave enough to kiss this boy he's officially met less than ten minutes ago. In the end, he just turns his head to really look at Mario, fiddling with the boy's laces, their eyes softly taking in one another.

"I just saw some friends I didn't feel like seeing right now," he answers as honestly as he can.

"Friends as in I know them but I don't like them or friends as in friends?"

"Friends as in my best friend," he admits, shrugging when Mario raises an eyebrow at him.

"You ran away from your best friend?"

"He can be a little overbearing!" Marco argues, feeling defensive and a little guilty. "I love Mats to death," he adds and Mario raises his eyebrow higher. "I do! I just feel like he can be a bit too much sometimes."

"And does this Mats know you feel that way?" Mario asks, his eyes more understanding than his voice suggests.

"He does," Marco says, nodding at Mario, his hand unconsciously - or maybe very consciously, but he's feeling happy and relaxed and maybe a little bold - moving higher to trace patterns along Mario's calf. "He's just gotten so used to taking care of me that he thinks he's my father sometimes."

"He seems like a nice guy," Mario mumbles with a soft smile.

"He is," Marco agrees. "We met at our first foster home, when were around seven, I think. Well, I was seven, he was nine, so naturally, being so much older, he thought it was his job to take care of me and protect me from all the bad shit in the world," Marco adds, rolling his eyes but unable to stop the surge of affection from bursting through him at the thought of Mats. "As if there's anything worse than getting orphaned at six years of age. Anyway, he pushed for our move when our foster dad got a little too slap happy," he mutters sourly, the memories still as unpleasant as ever. 

He feels Mario brush his hand on his calf, threading his fingers through his as Marco continues to draw patterns on his leg, and he snaps out of it, realizes he's just told a complete stranger more about him than he's ever told anyone. _Not a complete stranger,_ his mind supplies, and Marco meets his eyes again, feels a surge of warmth burst through him that has nothing to do with the high temperatures. _His name is Mario and he's got a sunny smile and fingers that feel like they belong with yours._  

"I'm sorry," Marco murmurs. "I didn't mean to get all angsty on you. This is not how I was planning to woo you."

"You were planning on wooing me?" Mario bursts out laughing and Marco pats himself on the back when he can see Mario's cute front gap again.

"I was," he nods, trying to go for serious but the smile on his face betraying his intention. 

"It's not a very good wooing plan," Mario teases, nudging Marco's leg with the toe of his shoe. "But at least we've established that you're the damsel in distress with severe daddy issues in this scenario."

"Asshole," Marco mutters laughing, and Mario's up on his feet before he can do anything.

He keeps a tight hold on his hand, forcing Marco up with him. "Come on, we're going swimming."

"What?" Marco squeaks, his eyes widening exponentially, his voice a lot higher than he'd like. "We can't swim."

"Come on grandpa, live a little," Mario teases, poking him in the ribs.

"But it's dark!" Marco argues.

"So?" Mario counters, pulling his shirt and cap off and Marco forgets everything he was about to say, his mouth going dry and his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. "That's what I thought," Mario laughs heartily when Marco's silent for a long time, toeing off his shoes and taking off towards the water.

It takes Marco another five seconds to pull himself together before he takes off his shirt and nearly trips in his haste to shrug off his own high tops and run after Mario.

The water's colder than Marco expects and by the time he's waist deep he has to stop and gasp out loud, barely able to get his lungs to cooperate before he's hit with a splash of water that chills him to the bone. He hears a howl of laughter at his undignified squeak, barely managing to catch Mario's retreating figure before he's disappeared further into the sea as he remains standing there in the dark with his arms wrapped around himself and shivering.

"Come on, Marco!" Mario teases from a little further ahead. "It's just a little water!"

Marco would kill Mario right now if he didn't like him so much, still contemplates it despite his rapidly growing feelings for the boy. He feels another shudder travel through him and he finally can't take it anymore. He shuts his eyes tightly before his sinks into the water, finally allowing himself to relax when he's completely submerged, warmth seeping through his bones and into his heart. He resurfaces only when he's teetering on the edge of a stroke, exhaling loudly when his head's out of the water. He rolls his eyes at his own dramatic tendencies when he realizes it's really not that cold. He allows himself to just float, eyes closed as he relishes in the newfound peace, slowly kicking his feet and arms around to push himself further into the water, the faint music from his party lulling him gently.

"See? That wasn't so hard," Mario says and Marco yelps loudly, losing balance and nearly jumping out of his skin when something touches his hand under the water.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Marco barks when he realizes it's Mario and the boy erupts into laughter, his hands finding Marco's waist and helping him stay afloat. 

Marco really wants to hurt Mario right now, nothing would give him more pleasure, but Mario's laughing so openly it tugs at his heartstrings, and Marco just realized that his feet can't feel sand anymore, the water too deep for him to stand, and he's trying not to panic because the water is way too dark. So he holds on a little tighter to Mario, one of his arms around his shoulder and the other one holding on rather tightly to Mario's elbow. He should probably act a little dignified, he knows, but damn dignity to the deepest pits of hell when it comes to dark waters. He's seen one too many movies where the hero gets his leg chopped off by a damn shark because he's too busy pretending that that murky shit he's floating in doesn't freak the crap out of him.

"Relax, Marco," Mario soothes, still chuckling amusedly and Marco wants to punch him.

"There's something floating under me, I can feel it," he mutters, forcing himself to loosen his death grip on Mario, looking entirely too suspicious for his own good.

"We're in the middle of the sea. Fish live in the sea. Of course there's something floating there."

"This is in no way reassuring me," Marco mumbles, looking around him. He's aware of just how paranoid he's being but he can't bring himself to stop. "Sharks are fish. Piranhas are fish. Stingrays are fish. Steve Irwin was killed by a stingray."

"Yes, but you're not Steve Irwin, are you? And technically, sharks are not fi-"

"Stop being such a smartass!" Marco interrupts but he finally allows himself to smile, remembering that despite everything, he does know how to swim, and the feeling of floating in the calm waters with Mario's arms loosely around him is rather enjoyable. "Of course you're a smartass," he adds. "You wouldn't suggest swimming at the crack of dawn otherwise."

"It's 11pm, that's hardly the crack of dawn!" Mario protests, the smile on his face giving away his true intentions. "Besides, if it were, you'd be out there running like the old man you are," he teases, nodding his head towards the shore.

"Smartass," Marco mutters again and it earns him another laugh.

"I've been called worse," Mario shrugs, maneuvering them a little to the left and Marco suddenly feels his feet hit the ground and he can't help the sigh of relief that escapes his mouth as he detaches himself from Mario.

"I'm sure," Marco shoots back, his mouth quirking up on one side as he properly looks at Mario probably for the first time since they went into the water.

He's chin deep in the sea, his hair sticking up in all directions, droplets of water clinging to his cheeks, his smile as wide as Marco has ever seen it, and Marco wants nothing more than to close the distance between them and taste the salt on his lips, feel his soft skin under his fingers. 

"So where do you live?" He says instead, clearing his throat and his head of these ideas because he literally just me Mario not thirty minutes before. And it doesn't matter if he feels like he's known him all his life - or if he wants to know him for the rest of it, a slight voice shouts in the back of his head - because that doesn't mean that it's okay to want to kiss him and touch him and lick him until the only taste he knows is his.

"Munich, right now," Mario answers in a low, hoarse voice, and Marco feels his heart skip a beat when Marco's fingers find his own under the water. He feels him run his fingers through his, testing and teasing but never truly holding. "But I'm from Dortmund, originally."

"Figures."

"What?" Mario asks, his eyes narrowing.

"I was born in Dortmund," Marco admits. "Lived there until I lost my family."

"Can I ask what happened?" Mario whispers, an unsure look crossing his features.

"Car accident. We got run over by a truck. They found me under one of the wheels. Said I was lucky to be alive," he mutters, his chest tightening. "I don't know what's lucky about losing everyone you care about in a matter of seconds." They're both quiet for a moment. "Anyway, this is not about me," he adds, looking up at Mario only to realize that sometime during his trip down memory lane, he and Mario have gravitated so close to each other their chests are now touching, their faces inches apart, close enough for Marco to see the tiny golden hairs dusting his otherwise brown stubble, close enough for him to feel Mario's breathe on his cheek. "How come you left Dortmund?"

"I graduated high school and decided to go continue my studies in Munich."

"Why Munich?" Marco asks, feeling brave enough to rest his free hand on Mario's hip.

"It was either that or London," Mario shrugs, drawing patterns on Marco's forearm. "I had no clue what I wanted to do after school, so I took a year off to figure it out. Ann went to Munich and André - also a close friend - went to London. So I decided to move in with one of them and Munich was easier. We met Thomas and David there, they were Ann's roommates. I essentially invited myself to live with them and I've not known how to do without any of them since."

"So Ann is Thomas' girlfriend? Or David's?"

"Oh hell no," Mario chuckles lightly. "Thomas is not particularly into girls and while David will never stop trying to get with her, Ann is not particularly into anyone but herself."

"David likes Ann?"

"In a way. He's been burned once, really affected him, so he doesn't particularly believe in relationships. At least not romantic ones. But I think he likes Ann more than he lets on."

"And she doesn't like him back?" It sounds weird, asking questions about people he doesn't know, people he's never even seen, but he wants to know everything about Mario, even about his friends' crappy love lives.

"She's quick to say no, but I don't always believe her. They're really close. I'm pretty sure it's all going to come to blows one day soon. For now, though, he's happy to just sleep his way through Munich."

"Sounds like a charmer," Marco shrugs.

"He actually is," the boy laughs lightly. "He's not actively chasing tail but he never says no when it lands right in his lap. And he's the funniest dude you'll ever meet. Well, he's got a little competition from Thomas."

Marco nods with a faint smile on his face, taking it all in, feeling inexplicably drawn to this boy, wanting to know everything about him and his friends and his world and just the universe because he's in it. "Did you figure out what you wanted to do, then?"

"Play football. Unfortunately, they told me I was at least ten years too late in realizing that," Mario chuckles again and Marco smiles at him. "Majored in languages instead. I'm hoping to one day put that major to good use. Till then, I'm stuck manning the bar at some pub every night." Mario's fingers finally wrap themselves around Marco's, and he lifts their hands slowly out of the water, until their linked fingers are floating on the surface. "I'm not the only one who thinks there's something here, right?" He whispers suddenly, looking at their entwined hands before meeting Marco's eyes and effectively knocking the breath out of him. "This is not all in my head, right?" 

They just stand there for a second, neither doing anything but taking the other in, and Marco feels his throat close up, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach like a thousand wings flapping at once, threatening to take over his whole body. "No," he admits in a low voice. "It's not all in your head."

"Good," Mario whispers, inching closer. "Because I've been wanting to do this since I first saw you four days ago," he confesses before pressing his lips to Marco's.

For a second, Marco doesn't understand what's happening. For a second, he just shuts off his mind, lets himself just feel instead. The tiny droplets falling from Mario's hair onto his cheeks. The palms pressed firmly against his chest, fingers light and soft teasing his collarbone. The faint stubble tickling his face, so different from what he's used to yet so completely right against him. The soft pair of lips pressed to his, full and chaste and perfect. His lips part automatically when he feels Mario suck on his lower lip, pulling him even closer by his dog tags, but before he can feel the tongue he's craving against his own, Mario pulls away with a loud pop, smile perfectly in place and eyes bright against the dark sky.

"Race you back to the shore," he whispers before letting go of Marco and disappearing into the water.

\-----

 It takes Marco a long time to calm his racing heart and follow Mario out of the water. 

It's been so long since he's kissed someone. Okay, that's not true, he's had more than his fair share of 'fans' throw themselves at him at the first given opportunity, and he's a guy in his twenties with a healthy libido, so of course he's not going to say no. But it's the first time in forever that he's actually wanted to be kissed. And it's definitely the first time he's been kissed by a guy.

It doesn't freak him out in the meaning it carries, the possibility that he might be gay or bi or whatever. He's never judged Mats for choosing to be with Benni because there's nothing to judge. They're in love, have been literally since the moment they met. The point is, he's accepted them for who they are so of course he's going to accept himself for what he might or might not be. No, what scares him about kissing Mario is just how much he liked it. How much more he's craving, how eager he is to learn more about this mysterious sunny boy, how somewhere in the back of his mind, he's already worried about how he's going to manage to keep seeing him when he's gone back to New York and Mario's back in Munich.

"Thought you decided to ditch me and stay in the murky water," Mario teases when Marco's finally made it to the shore. 

Marco's heart squeezes tightly in his chest at the sight, Mario's now soaked shirt clinging to his chest, shoes in hand and flushed cheeks visible even in the faint glow provided by the moon. 

"I thought about it," Marco smirks at him, "but then I decided I'd rather face your sarcastic ass than a shark's."

"You talk a lot about my ass, you know." Mario licks his lips suggestively, and Marco swallows, his throat suddenly dry.

"Yes, well I am nothing if not an ass man, and yours is just..." He trails off, his cheeks heating up despite himself, his mind suddenly catching up to his mouth. 

"So I've been told," Mario brushes it off, walking closer to Marco and handing him is own shirt. "You're not so bad yourself," he murmurs when he's close enough, leaning his head to whisper a kiss against his neck before pulling back and walking away, leaving Marco just standing there.

This boy who looks like the human embodiment of the sun is the devil and he is going to be the death of him, Marco is sure about it. 

He takes a deep breath, willing the hairs on the back of his neck not to stand up, picks his shoes off the sand before he scrambles up to catch up to Mario. He notices a blanket a bit further up the beach when he reaches Mario, stares at it curiously until he notices a half- empty bottle of tequila lying amongst the towels, clothes thrown on it, and what looks like a picnic basket. Marco looks around him to find the owners, as he and Mario continue walking, now decidedly aiming for the abandoned liquor, but there's no one on the beach. He turns towards the water where he can spot two shadows in the distance, and if he tries hard enough to black out the music still coming fast and loud from his own boat, then he can hear the couple's moans echoing in the night sky. Mario seems to hear it too, because he smirks slightly as he looks from the blankets to the water where Marco knows the two are engaging in what seems to be some seriously strenuous activity. His eyes meet Mario's once before he makes up his mind. He's definitely going to need some hard liquor if he wants to get by tonight, the two shots he had back at the house nowhere near enough.

"They're not going to miss it," he decides as he swipes the tequila bottle and continues walking, before uncapping the lid and knocking back a rather large gulp of the clear liquid. He grimaces at the bitter taste that hits the back of his throat, feels the warm rush of the liquor travel through his body when he swallows before he hands Mario the bottle.

He smiles at him when Mario takes a good sip of the drink, feeling bold enough to scoot closer to him and wrap his arm around the shorter man's shoulder. 

\-----

"So," Mario starts abruptly when they've made it to the end of the beach, a cluster of trees clearly in sight. He pulls out from under Marco's arm and plops down right at the edge of the greenery, dropping his hat next to him. "Where do you live?"

"London. Los Angeles. New York right now," Marco shrugs, settling down next to him, propping the bottle up between them and wrapping his arms loosely around his knees.

"What are you like a flight attendant?" Mario asks, taking another sip and grimacing remarkably. He even looks cute when he's disgusted, Marco notes to himself, slightly disturbed by just how gone he is for the guy already.

"Mats and I work in the music industry," he chuckles lightly, looking at his fingers.

"So you're like producers or something."

"Or something," Marco shrugs, keeping it vague. He doesn't want to lie to him, but he also wants this momentary reprieve he's being accorded to stretch a little more. He's more than enjoying his time with Mario and he wants to stay in this bubble and make it last as much as he can.

"How does an orphaned boy from Dortmund end up jet-setting from London to New York to Los Angeles?" Mario marvels.

"Mats," Marco admits. "After our third unsuccessful stint at a foster home, he helped me escape. We were about eleven and stranded in Dusseldorf by then, and I don't even know how he managed to get us on that train to fucking Denmark. He just did."

"He smuggled you to Denmark when he was eleven? Dude, I didn't even know how to go to school on my own when I was eleven!" Mario's eyes widen as he watches Marco curiously.

"Worse still. We only stayed in Denmark for about a month before he got us jobs on a ferry and when we docked in England, we just never went back."

"You're making this up," Mario challenges.

"I wish I was," Marco laughs lightly, turning his gaze from Mario to the sea. 

"Okay, say I believe you," Mario humors him. "How did you end up in New York?"

"You ask too many questions, you know that?" Marco protests, slightly flustered at the way the conversation's going. 

"Yes, so I've been told," he waves him off, rolling his eyes. "I still want to know how you ended up there."

"We, um, Mats and I," he starts nervously, trying to be as honest as he can be without giving too much away, "we had some money saved from the ferry, so we bought ourselves a used guitar and we started playing on the streets of London. We slept on the streets on most days, but sometimes when it was too cold or we'd had a good week, we'd rent some cheap beds at some hostel. Eventually, we started landing gigs at local pubs, and Mats made friends with a lot of the other people who played as well." He stops for a second, hesitating slightly before he decides that he can't tell him the truth. Not yet. "One of the guys got discovered by some big deal agent and asked Mats to be his manager. We made it clear that we came as a package deal, so the next week, we were off to New York." That's not exactly a _lie_ , is it? "We met Manu and Benni there. Mats and Benni have been joined at the hip since then and Manu just decided one day that he had to make sure we were all alive at the end of everyday and they've been my family ever since."

"You seem so reluctant to talk about it," Mario notes and Marco feels his chest tighten. "If this was my life I'd be telling anybody who listens."

"That's because you just like hearing the sound of your own voice," Marco teases, taking another sip of the bottle. 

"You can't say that, you haven't known me that long," Mario argues, snatching the bottle from Marco's fingers, but scooting closer to him, until their arms brush.

"I've known you long enough to know you talk too much," Marco counters, his words dying on his tongue when he turns to look at Mario and realizes just how close they are. 

"Then why don't you do something about it," Mario whispers his challenge, his voice soft and his breath fanning Marco's face, sending a shiver down his back. 

Marco hesitates for a second, wondering if maybe he shouldn't do what he's about to do, but then Mario's tongue darts out of his mouth to wet his lips in anticipation and Marco's brain short-circuits. He pries the bottle out of Mario's hand and nearly throws it aside in his haste to get it out of the way before he attacks Mario with his lips, wrapping one arm around Mario's waist to pull him closer, his other hand sliding up Mario's body to disappear in his hair.

It's not his finest moment, he knows, his head spinning from the liquor and the adrenaline but mostly from being so close to Mario. His mouth is moving sloppily against Mario's, their teeth clashing and their noses bumping, but Mario's returning the kiss with just as much fervor, pulling on his collar to get their bodies closer, practically purring in his mouth when Marco tugs on his hair a little too forcefully. When he pulls his mouth away from Mario's for a second, the boy actually cries out at the loss of contact and Marco feels his already substantial arousal grow at how pliant Mario is under his fingers. 

The boy opens his eyes to look at him, the protest on his tongue, but before he can so much as speak Marco lifts himself slightly, nudging Mario's leg until he gets the hint, easing his leg around Marco until they're properly face to face. Marco nearly sighs with relief when he settles between Mario's legs, holding one palm to his chest to keep himself steady. The boy who looks like the sun smiles a little shyly as he looks up at him, and Marco nearly groans with the realization of how much he needs him right now. He closes the distance again, a little more carefully this time, allowing himself to properly enjoy the feeling of Mario's lips against his, salty because of the sea and sweet because it's Mario, sucking and licking his way into his mouth until their tongues meet.

He lets his fingers tangle in his hair, sighing happily when he feels Mario's hands on his lower back, pulling him along until they're lying entirely on the sand, Mario on his back and Marco completely on top of him. He can feel him hard against his hip, can feel his quick heartbeats against his chest, the soft sighs escaping him more than he can hope for. He lets one of his hands slide under Mario's shirt, desperate to feel the skin there, fingers strong and needy as he moves his mouth from Mario's to leave a wet trail of kisses along his jaw and down to his neck. He sucks a little too hard on his pulse point, knows it'll leave a mark, doesn't really care, licks at the spot a little more eagerly when Mario whimpers under him. 

He nearly loses it when Mario shifts a little under him until their cocks are lined up, their erections rubbing against one another sending jolt after jolt of desire through his body despite the layers separating them, so sudden it nearly blinds him. He rubs himself against Mario a little harder enjoying the friction, new and unfamiliar and so completely perfect. He's already close, closer than he'd like to admit, unable to feel real shame that he's about to come just from a little dry-humping. He wonders for a second if it constitutes as such when everything is so wet, their damp close and humid bodies and open lips colliding and sucking and feeling, but before he can think more on it, Mario finds his mouth again, greedily sucking on his lower lip, and Marco doesn't even think about it when he eases a hand between them and palms Mario through his trunks.

"Fuck-" Mario curses under him, cupping his ass and pulling him even closer and Marco feels another shot of desire pulsate through his body. "Need to feel you," he whimpers under him and Marco squeezes his erection lightly before moving his hand away and sliding it under his shorts. It's not a very comfortable angle but Mario sighs into his mouth at the contact. "Marco," he whispers breathlessly, sucking on his neck and then finding his mouth again and Marco feels his heart hammer in his chest, his name on Mario's lips almost reverent and so much more than he can handle. He wraps his fingers around Mario's cock, fingers slick with pre-cum as he starts moving up and down and Mario bites into his skin to keep from screaming. He's teetering so precariously on the edge, they both are, Mario's hands hot on his ass, and it takes only a couple of strokes before Mario shoots his load, one of his hands sliding between them to return the favor, and Marco can't even feel embarrassed that Mario barely touches him before he comes as well, muffling his own cries into Mario's skin as the other boy kisses his neck soothingly.

\------

It takes Marco some time to catch his breath, but he starts pulling away when he does, worried he's squishing Mario under his weight. 

"Don't," Mario murmurs catching Marco off guard, removing his hand from under his shorts but otherwise keeping a tight hold on him. "Not yet," he whispers and Marco doesn't even think about it when he leans forward to press their lips together gently. 

The kiss is softer this time, chaste and unhurried, just a meeting of lips, tentative and unsure like strangers trying to understand an inexplicable connection between them. Mario smiles at him when he pulls away, and Marco has a hard time associating this Mario, so sunny and innocent-looking with the Mario who was with him just moments ago. He wants them just as equally, he realizes, and it scares him more than anything else. 

Mario straightens up a little and Marco takes it as a sign that he can move. 

His legs feel unsteady when he stands up, shaky under his weight, his fingers sticky and Mario laughs at him when he looks at his hand and pulls a face. 

"I think it's time for another swim," he teases, smile still intact on his face and Marco's heart squeezes in his chest. 

He follows him out into the sea, cleans the mess off his fingers and his trunks.

He can't really think about what they just did, can't really understand it. He's done worse, of course he has, with a lot of people he's known for a shorter amount of time and definitely liked a lot less, sometimes all at once. But it never felt like this, never felt like his entire body was on fire, like it would swallow him whole if he didn't get closer to that person. He's never wanted to spend time with the people after either, usually looking for the quickest exit. He's also always kept a careful distance between him and the world, never really let anyone in aside from Mats. Even with Benni and Manu, he's made sure to not depend on them too much, to not need them too much. He could lose any of them at any moment, that much he's learned from his short time on earth, and he's not about to give himself more heartache than he's already had in his life.

But it seems, all of his carefully kept rules take a back seat when it comes to this wonderful boy standing across from him, the need to know him stronger than anything else.

"Hey," Mario whispers when they're back on the shore and he's just finished tying his laces, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Are you okay?" Marco looks up at the question, surprised by how well he can read him. Mario reaches out with tentative fingers, softly smoothing out the wrinkle between his eyes, and Marco realizes he'd been frowning while lost in his thoughts. 

"Yeah," he murmurs, taken aback by how true the reassurance is. It seems that any and all his internal battles seized the minute Mario's eyes met his, his fingers cool and comforting on his skin. He doesn't have to worry about letting this boy in because he's already in and there's not a thing he can do about it.

"Good." 

Mario smiles at him and Marco can't stop himself from returning it if he tries.

"So, what now?"

Mario dusts himself slightly, propping hit hat back up on his head, his eyes suddenly lighting up, a giddy grin appearing on his face. 

"Now we dance."

"What?" Marco squeaks.

"Come on," Mario orders, taking his hand and pulling him along as he starts making his way back to the mansion. "We haven't enjoyed that fucker's party yet."

\-----

It takes Marco approximately five seconds to relax when they reach the party. It's well past midnight already and everyone's entirely too wasted to bat an eye at him. There's so many people tonight, more than he's seen since his first night here, but then again he's usually locked up in his room with Manu around this time. The entire area is glowing, neon lights and sticks and paint at every corner, the people around them jumping and dancing in a colorful state of bliss. And for the first time since he can remember, he's more than happy to be out there, the music and the people and the energy and the adrenaline pumping through him like a drug, Mario's hand firmly in his as he drags them towards the boat. 

He feels his heart hammering in his chest as they get closer, Mario already jumping in excitement in front of him. He lets go of him when they're on the yacht, disappears for a second and Marco feels an irrational fear run through him, but he's back before he can think more on it, wide smile plastered on his face as he offers him a shot of something green. Marco laughs at his excitement, can't stop himself from kissing him briefly before he knocks back his shot. Mario's taken by surprise, Marco knows, because it takes him a beat to throw back his own shot before he relieves them of the tiny plastic cups and throws them in a nearby bag, and he disappears back into the crowd for a minute. He comes back with his hands behind his back, and when he reveals them to Marco, he's got a handful of glowing sticks, yellow and purple and blue and orange and pink and green and Marco laughs loudly when Mario takes his hands and wraps a few of them around his wrists. He locks the rest of them around his own wrists, looks at Marco for a second more before he starts dancing, jumping first but then losing himself to the music, hands wide apart and eyes bright and laughter so loud on his tongue Marco's sure everyone can hear it. He can only stare at him, take him in, this beautiful boy who's pushed his way into his life, so alive and so happy and just there. 

"Come on!" He yells at him, wrapping his fingers around his wrist, urging him to move to the music and Marco lets himself just be. He moves slowly at first, closing his eyes, nothing but the music and Mario's fingers in mind, and before he knows it his body is moving on its own accord, his legs light and fast as he starts bouncing and dancing, opens his eyes and moves his head to the beat before he starts howling, a new freedom flowing through him as he feels the bodies close around him, their energy fueling his, Mario's energy filling his senses entirely.

\-----

They only slow down eons later when Marco can't feel his feet anymore, plopping down on one of the cushioned benches right by the railing, tired and happy and thrumming with energy, leaning against one another with their fingers linked as they watch the people and the sky and the sea around them.

Marco's looking at a group of people throwing back shots when he spots Manu a little to their left, looking around for someone, his eyes lighting up when he spots Marco. He smiles at his friend before his face is contorted into a worried look, hurrying towards them and Marco already knows what he's about to do.

"Oh my god, Marco there you are!" He practically wails when he's right next to them and Mario startles next to Marco, taken completely by surprise by the tall figure suddenly there. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Manu," Marco greets him unable to hide his laugh, for the first time truly seeing Manu's absolute dedication to his nightly role. 

Manu, for his part, looks a little confused because Marco's laughing and Marco never laughs, but he's nothing if not a hard worker.

"I'm so sorry to keep you from your company, but I need you right now!" He screeches, his eyes so distressed that Marco almost believes him.

"Not tonight, Manu," Marco chuckles, patting his friend on his back and earning a very surprised look. "I'm actually enjoying the company for once."

"Is everything okay?" Mario asks, straightening up, his hand leaving Marco's as he rubs his neck a little uncomfortably.

"Yeah," Marco says. "He's just rehearsing for a part," he adds, and Manu laughs lightly, his childish features relaxing as he looks at Mario. "Manu, this is Mario," he introduces. "Mario, this is one of my best friends, Manu."

"Nice to meet you," Mario smiles, his posture relaxing and trademark smile  reappearing as he shakes his hand. "I knew you'd be tall."

"What?" Marco says chuckling as Manu looks a little confused again. "I didn't even describe him to you!"

"Yes, but you said he liked to make sure you're not dead. Only tall people do that."

"You're weird," Manu states, sitting himself next to Marco. "I like you."

"I'm glad," Mario laughs, clinking his plastic cup with Manu's, both men drinking as Marco sits in between them just smiling. Mario links his fingers with Marco's again, and Marco can't even bring himself to not smile wider when Manu raises his eyebrows at him.

"You guys haven't by any chance seen a blond guy walk by," Manu asks, "stick thin and long limbed, a little clumsy looking?"

"Sounds like you're describing my friend Thom-"

"Mario!" 

Mario is interrupted by a group of people suddenly coming up to them, and Marco recognizes the two boys he saw with Mario the other day, along with another two people, a girl and a boy. 

Mario brightens up considerably, the sight of his friends obviously pleasing him. Manu and one of Mario's friend, the tall lanky one, look at each other and smile gleefully, as if they already know one another. Marco would ask them if they did if he weren't too busy anticipating the oncoming disaster. The girl in the group - and he's going out on a limb here but he's assuming Ann - spots him and her eyes widen suddenly as she points at him.

"Oh my god!" She shrieks, one of her hands covering her mouth and the other still pointed at Marco, all eyes turning to look at him.

The jig is up. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbles at Mario who's looking between him and his friends with a furrowed brow.

"No way!" The lanky kid yells, but Manu's on him before he can get another word in.

"Thomas, keep your voice down! He doesn't need everyone knowing he's here," he says, loud enough for all of Mario's friends to hear, and Marco would stop to wonder how Manu knows this Thomas kid, but he's too busy staring at Mario, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach as he takes him in.

"How did you manage to find Marco Fucking Reus before I did?" Ann whisper-shouts and Marco can see the boy standing next to her roll his eyes.

"How do you know Marco?" Mario asks, sounding even more confused before his eyes clear up suddenly. "Oh." He looks at Marco, his eyes blank and sober and Marco wants to throw up. "That singer you like so much, his name is-"

"Marco Reus," Ann confirms, nodding her head.

"You're the guy who got discovered," Mario says dumbly, his eyes glued to Marco's. "You asked Mats to be your manager."

"Yes," Marco admits, his voice throaty and his lungs aching. 

The jig is up and he's already losing Mario. Only there's nothing to lose, they've known each other for only a few hours and Mario's nowhere near his to lose.

"Right," Mario nods, his voice thick and Marco's stomach churns uncomfortably.

Mario's hand leaves his as he gets up, and Marco feels so impossibly cold, the loss already settling in heavy and unwelcome on his chest. 

"Mario," he pleads, his voice low and breaking as the boy starts walking away.

"It's been real," Mario mumbles, waving him off and disappearing into the crowd.

"What was that?" The boy next to Ann wonders, before all of Mario's friends sprint after him, leaving Marco with Manu and Thomas who lingers for a second longer, sharing a look with Manu before disappearing after his friends. 

It takes all of Marco's willpower to get his body to cooperate and he turns in his seat just in time to lean over the railing and empty the contents of his stomach into the sea.

\-----

When Marco wakes up the next day, his head is throbbing and he's drenched in a thin layer of sweat. He opens his eyes, the action more painful than he expects, the harsh daylight assaulting his senses in the worst way possible, his sheets wrapped too tightly around him. He doesn't remember getting to bed. He doesn't remember falling asleep. He definitely doesn't remember changing his clothes. It's only when he notices his yellow swim shorts thrown haphazardly on the ground that it all comes back to him.

A party. A sunny boy by the name of Mario. An escape. The start of a lie. The sand and the water and Mario everywhere. Fumbling hands and stolen kisses and butterflies rioting wildly in his stomach. An energy like no other, the feeling of real freedom if only for a while. And then it all came crashing down.

He's having a hard time breathing as he kicks the sheets violently in an effort to free himself, stumbling off the bed and towards the open window, sticking his head out and breathing deeply. His eyes burn and his throat hurts, his lungs aching with every intake of air, a bitter taste in his mouth, the sun shining too brightly, like its intent on reminding him of what he might've had. He turns in his spot when he's had enough air, back on the wall as he slides down on the floor, his legs unable to carry him for longer. 

This makes no sense. Him feeling like this because of someone he's known for less than a day makes no sense. So he gives himself five minutes to feel bad, five minutes to feel angry and desperate and mourn his loss, but then he picks himself off the floor and starts rifling through his closet for some clean clothes. 

He hears footsteps outside his door followed by soft knocking and he tiptoes to his bathroom and shuts the door as quietly as possible, not ready to face any of his friends yet.

He cleans himself raw under the scalding water, trying to rid his skin of the salt and sand and sweat, of Mario's touches and his kisses, rubbing so hard until his whole body is prickling and pink under the water. 

He takes his time brushing his teeth and shaving, looking at his reflection in the mirror for a little too long. He's pale, so pale in the fluorescent light, the bruises under his eyes more pronounced than ever, but he makes sure to perfect his hair, pulls on a tight fitting white v-neck shirt with a pair of red shorts, his heart squeezing a little when he notices the dog tags around his neck.

He shakes himself out of it, refusing to be broken over this. He's always protected himself from getting too close, always shielded his heart from the pain of it, and so what if one person was able to find the chink in his armor, he can fix it and make it even stronger than the last time. 

He takes one last look in the mirror, taking a deep breath before he makes his way out of the bathroom, pulling on a yellow pair of chucks before heading downstairs. 

"Morning," he announces a little too perky when he's in the kitchen.

Mats, Benni and Manu all look up at him from their perch around the kitchen island, their eyes more worried than Marco's seen them in a while. 

"Afternoon, you mean," Mats says, raising an eyebrow at him.

"What time is it?" He asks, rifling through the fridge for some milk. He pulls out when he finds it, grabs one of the many boxes of cereal on the counter along with a bowl and a spoon, seating himself on one of the empty stools.

"Almost 2."

"Oh," he says, trying to pretend like their eyes on him don't set him in edge, digging into his bowl. He can hear some noise from the other room, probably the house keepers erasing the evidence of the party that raged the night before.

"Are you okay?" Mats asks, and Marco cringes. He's so not up for this right now. He thinks about crawling back up to his bed, hiding himself under the sheets, but he knows Mats won't let off that easy. He'll keep pushing and pushing until Marco talks, so he might as well talk now. "We had to drag you back to your room last night and you kept mumbling something about Mario and lying-"

"I'm fine," Marco snaps, the name filling his chest with an unwelcome warmth. He shakes it off and swallows before he continues. "I met someone yesterday," he says truthfully. "Someone I might've liked if this was a different world. But it's not. I had to lie to him to try and act like my life is normal, like I have some semblance of a private life, and naturally it backfired. Phenomenally. It sucks, but that's how it is, and I'm fine."

"Marco," Mats whispers, his eyes softening, and Marco can't stand to look at him right now. He doesn't want caring Mats, the one that can see right through him. 

"Please Mats, just drop it," he pleads, looking up from his food, his voice hoarse and thick with grief. "I'll be fine, I promise. Just, let me forget about it, and do me one favor."

"Anything," Mats agrees, nodding his head mechanically, his eyes not leaving Marco's.

"No more parties. At least for another week. I really want to enjoy this vacation, and I know your idea of fun involves hard liquor, some illicit drugs and three thousand other people, but mine is limited to you, Benni and Manu and maybe a beer or two. Let's take the boat out later today and go snorkeling or something. I don't know. Just, no more parties."

"Okay."

"If we're being honest here, his idea of a vacation sounds so much better than yours, Matsi," Benni shrugs, and Marco smiles gratefully at him. "Your parties are exhausting."

"True story," Manu agrees. "I'll start calling around to cancel everything," he adds, getting off his stool.

"I'll help," Benni adds, following him out of the room and Marco smiles at his friends' very obvious attempt to give him and Mats some privacy. 

"I'm sorry if I've been a crappy friend," Mats mumbles, a worried frown on his godlike face.

"You haven't," Marco reassures, dropping his spoon and shaking his head. "I've just been feeling like I'm suffocating lately. I love what I do Mats, I love that I can write a song and sing it and so many people can relate to it. But it's been catching up to me. All of the unwelcome attention and the pressure has been getting to me. I've been doing this non-stop for the past five years, and it's slowly killing me. You know how much I hate all the attention that comes with it."

"I know," Mats nods. "But I saw you yesterday. First when you essentially ran away from me," he says pointedly and Marco smiles a little realizing how stupid he was to think he could sneak away from his best friend, "and then when you were dancing on the boat. And I don't remember seeing you this happy since we were on the streets in London."

"I don't remember being this happy,"  Marco admits, smiling sadly, the lump in his throat making it hard for him to swallow. "You'd like Mario, if you met him."

"Why don't you try talking to him," Mats suggests, his eyes hopeful.

"No," Marco shakes his head sadly. "I can't. I lied to him, pretended to be something I'm not. I don't need to burden him with any of it."

"But-"

"Please Mats, just drop it."

"Alright," he agrees. He's silent for only a moment before he speaks up again. "Let me just take a moment to officially welcome you to the club."

"The club?" Marco asks, furrowing his brow at his friend.

"The oh-look-penises-are-just-as-interesting-as-vaginas club," Mats explains, unnaturally serious and Marco barks out a laugh.

"Thank you," Marco says laughing. "It's a nice club to be in."

\-----

They do end up snorkeling. Mats hires a team of professionals who set out with them to sea, and they submerge themselves in the clear afternoon water, taking in the colors and shapes and all the textures the sea has to offer. And when they're relaxing on the boat hours later, beers in hand and the sky painted with the violets and pinks and oranges of its warm sunset, Marco can almost forget about the night before, about the boy whose smile lights up the entire world. Almost, because every so often, his eyes wander to the cushions where they sat the night before, their hands clasped between them. Manu catches him a few times, his gentle eyes worried but Marco shakes his head, his laughter coming out honest when Mats cracks joke after joke, entertaining them with stories from their time in London before they met Benni and Manu.

Marco's smiling streak comes to a halting end when they get back to the house only to find Mario sitting on his front steps, legs folded in front of him, in a black muscle shirt and graphic board shorts and his white high tops from the night before. 

He feels his heart jump in his throat when he spots him, his chest tightening when Mario meets his eyes, waving a little awkwardly as he stands up. 

"Hi," Mario mumbles, and Marco takes a minute to pull himself together and stop staring.

"What are you doing here?" He asks in way of greeting, narrowing his eyes in confusion at the boy. 

Mats clears his throat next to him before he extends a hand Mario's way, taking a few steps towards him. "Hi, I'm Mats," he offers, smiling warmly and Marco can't remember the last time he's seen Mats so subdued or even nice to anyone.

"Mario," Mario says, his smile making an appearance and Marco's heart skips a beat. "I've heard a lot of things about you," Mario says good-naturedly and Mats laughs honest and loud.

"All lies, I assure you," he chuckles, turning to look at Marco with that same smile before focusing his eyes on his boyfriend. "This is Benni," he introduces and Mario waves at him. Benni smiles with such ease it tugs at Marco's heart.

"I've already met Manu," Mario interjects before Mats can say anything.

"It's nice to see you again, weirdo," Manu teases and Mario laughs easily before turning to Marco again. "Can we talk?"

"Well, I've got to hit the shower," Mats announces before Marco can say anything. "Benni, let's go make the housekeepers uncomfortable," he continues, pulling his boyfriend by the hand and walking up the steps. "Manu, you're welcome to join. We're always up for a threesome."

"Ugh, I'll pass," Manu mutters, crinkling his nose in disgust and earning another chuckle out of Mario. He smiles at the boy as he walks by him, patting him lightly on the shoulder before following his friends into the house.

"They seem nice," Mario remarks offhandedly, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to look back at Marco.

"Are you just here because Ann wants to meet me?" Marco asks before he can stop himself and Mario laughs a little.

"No, Ann was surprisingly supportive yesterday, not once mentioning her favorite singer hooking up with her best friend."

"Then what are you doing here?" Marco repeats, unable to think of anything else to say because he was so ready to turn the page on them, so ready to forget last night happened and just move on, but now Mario's here and waiting for him on his front porch and this is not part of the plan.

"I'm sorry I ran away last night," Mario mumbles, the sincerity in his voice more that Marco can take.

"Don't," he says quickly, shaking his head. "There's nothing to be sorry for. I should've been honest with you. Or maybe I shouldn't have talked to you in the first place."

"No, don't say that," Mario argues, taking a few steps his way but keeping a safe distance between them. "I'm glad you talked to me. I just- you, you're a world famous singer," he continues, laughing with something akin to derision, and Marco winces at the reminder. "Did you know you've been on three sold-out world tours?"

"Did you google me?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I might've," Mario admits, meeting his eyes. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"I'm sorry," Marco repeats, not quite sure what he's apologizing for but feeling like he needs to. 

"It's not the fact that pretty much everyone in the world knows you that freaked me out so much," Mario explains. "Although, admittedly, that did throw me in for a loop a little. It's just," he continues, shaking his head in a clear effort to get his thoughts straight, "we did things. I did and said things. Things I don't do or say to just anyone. But you're world famous, you must've done these things a million times already and it's not the same to you and-"

"I haven't," Marco interrupts, shaking his head furiously, coming closer and almost reaching for Mario before he thinks better on it. "I mean I have," he winces, not wanting to lie, "but never like this. Never like I meant them."

For a moment, nothing happens. For a moment, they're both quiet, Marco's confession hanging low and heavy between them, the silence so loud that Marco's tempted to shut himself against it.

"I liked spending time with you," Mario whispers and Marco feels his heart beat so loud and so fast in his chest, hope coursing through his veins like blood. "I want to keep spending time with you."

"I-"

"But this can't be more than it is," Mario adds before Marco can say any more. "Everyone in the world knows you and I'm a bartender who lives in Munich and this can't be more than the fling it is. For a minute there, it might've been. If things were different..." Mario trails off, his words dying on his tongue and Marco feels himself suffocate under the weight of it, of his job and who he is and what he does. He's the reason it can't be more than that. He's the reason it can't work.

"I'm only here for another ten days," Mario mumbles, "and you, I don't know, can probably afford to buy the island if you want to so I don't know how long you're staying. But I'm here for ten more days and then I'm going back to my real life in Munich. But if we can treat this thing like it is, one of those flings that people have when they're on vacation, then I want to spend the next ten days with you."

He's setting himself up for heartbreak, Marco knows. He's willingly walking into a trap, promising to not want more of a boy he already wants too much of, but Mario's looking at him with those eyes, the same ones that looked at him on that first day at dawn and he can't bring himself to say no.

"Okay," he whispers, his lips quirking upward when Mario's eyes light up and a small smile makes its way on his face.

"Okay," Mario echoes, walking the few more steps that separate them until they're nearly chest to chest.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" 

"My friends are waiting for me," Mario declines gently, his fingers finding the hem of Marco's shirt and fiddling with it. "What are you doing tomorrow?"

"We're spending the day on the yacht. You and your friends are welcome to join. We probably won't head out to sea before 10 since Mats can't stand to look at the sun before then," Marco mutters and Mario smiles wider.

"We'll be there."

They stand awkwardly for a second before Marco makes up his mind and presses his lips to Mario's, their mouths fitting perfectly together, and Marco feels weirdly complete, like some phantom limb he's been missing his entire life just found its way to his body again. It's a chaste kiss, just a meeting of lips, but Marco's lips tingle when Mario pulls away with a smile on his face, squeezing his hand lightly before he starts walking away. 

"I'll see you tomorrow," he calls out when he's a little further away, that sunny smile that drew Marco in bright on his face. 

"Yeah," Marco murmurs when Mario's out of sight, smiling dumbly as he makes his way inside the house.

\-----

He barely gets any sleep that night, Mario on his mind and a smile plastered on his face, and he finally gives up on trying when the clock strikes 4. He goes for his morning run, Mario nowhere in sight, but for the first time he doesn't worry about it, the promise of a later filling him with thrumming anticipation.

Marco's nervously pacing his room, peeking out the window every minute or so when Mario and his brood show up hours later. He tries to hold his composure, to not sprint down the stairs when he hears their voices booming inside the house like his body's telling him to do, thrumming with energy and practically shivering in excitement. He ends up taking the stairs two at a time, albeit at a human pace, a compromise of sorts.

Mario's face lights up like a Christmas tree when Marco finally makes his way into the living room, his heart hammering in his ribs, his smile just as wide when their eyes meet. Mats, Manu and Benni are all already there, easily entertaining their new guests, but everyone goes unbearably quiet when he's in the room, only Marco's too busy staring at Mario to actually react. In the end it's Mario who moves away, looking at his friends and then at Marco. 

"Marco, these are my friends, Ann-Kathrin, David, Thomas and André."

"It's nice to meet you guys," Marco tries, mustering up a smile and taking a few steps forward to stand next to Manu. 

"Likewise," the dark-skinned one, David, replies as he shakes his hand, an easy smile gracing his features.

Thomas and André do the same, but when Marco looks at Ann, she's staring wide-eyed at him, and Marco takes her in, her perfect body and immaculate features and skimpy outfit - but then again, they're on the island of Ibiza about to go on a boat, so he can't really fault her for wearing a bikini and distressed denim short shorts - and in some weird way, she reminds him of Mats. Probably the perfect symmetry of her, much like his best friend's. They really wouldn't look out of place if they were both displayed in the Greek statue part of a museum, Marco muses as he tries to send her a reassuring smile, but all he gets in return is a blank stare.

Mario makes his way over to her, wraps one arm around her shoulder before trying to get her attention. "Ann, sweetheart, are you alright?"

"Yes," she whispers, shaking her head frantically. "But he sings," she continues, pointing her finger at Marco. "And I have albums, many many albums, and I know songs-"

"Yeah, okay," Mats interferes, stepping a little closer to her. "Clearly, she's starstruck. And I have just the cure for that."

"Oh god," Marco groans, hiding his face into his hand, already knowing what's coming. Mario looks curiously at him, a careful smile on his face.

"Ann, honey," Mats starts soothingly, and Ann raises an eyebrow at him. "Marco, that dude you're staring at like he's the best thing since cotton candy, he once crapped himself because he had diarrhea and he couldn't find the bathroom fast enough."

"Oh my god, eeeww," Ann yells, scrunching up her face in disgust as Mario, David and André erupt in laughter. Even Manu and Benni who have heard this story on more than one occasion chuckle lightly.

"That happened to me too!" Thomas announces a little too happily and even Marco laughs.

"Okay, he's out of my system," Ann confirms a second later, shaking her head and actually smiling at Marco and he likes her already. 

\-----

They're sailing out of the harbor barely thirty minutes later, and for once Mats has put their money to good use, hiring a couple of chefs and some waiters to sustain them throughout the day. He urges the staff to loosen up a bit however, tells them they can do whatever when they're not needed, be it swim or tan or make out, and Marco remembers why he likes Mats so much. The hired help is never just that with him, and just because they now have enough money to buy literally anything they want, doesn't mean he ever forgets a time when they had to ration the little food they had. 

The staff is of course taken off guard, none of them really allowing themselves to enjoy their time as much as Mats urges them to do, but they do seem to relax a bit, wandering about the lower deck rather than staying inside. 

They start out with breakfast, seating themselves in a circle on the roof of the yacht, everything from pancakes to grilled cheese sandwiches to bacon and eggs stacked on plates in front of them, and Marco's especially happy when Ann digs into her third pancake, clearly not one of those girls who starve themselves to look this good.

"So," David starts from his perch next to Ann, shoving another piece of bacon in his mouth. "How do you two know each other?" He asks, waving his fork between Thomas and Manu. 

"Manu was my first kiss," Thomas answers nonchalantly, cutting through some French toast, handing a piece to Manu and Marco can see his friend's cheeks on fire.

"Wait wait wait," Ann nearly screams, taking a second to swallow her food and Marco winces at her loud voice. Next to him, Mario laughs quietly, elbowing him gently in the ribs, whispering a 'you get used to it eventually' and smiling at him like he makes his world turn. Marco wants nothing more than to kiss him right now, but for the sake of his sanity, he turns his attention back to Ann. "Manu is Manuel? As in the Manuel who helped you realize you weren't so into girls after all?"

"Yes," Thomas mumbles a little shyly now, his own cheeks flaming a little.

"Yeah, Mülli was with a girl named Lisa before we went out in senior year," Manu adds and Marco smiles at the nickname. Manu's always been a particularly affectionate person, always very attentive and more than ready to help out a friend, but Marco doesn't remember ever seeing him so completely caught up in someone, so in tune with anyone as he seems to be with Thomas. 

"You were with a girl?" André chokes on his food, and Mario pats his back.

"We've talked about this, André. We chew and swallow before we talk," he teases.

"Shut up, Götze," André mutters turning his attention back to Thomas.

"Just one girl," Thomas admits. "Lisa was basically the female version of me."

"She definitely liked horses as much as you do," Manu grumbles and Thomas laughs before elbowing him lightly.

"But then we figured out we weren't right for each other and Manu was kinda there like he'd always been," Thomas shrugs, but even Marco who doesn't really know Thomas that well can see the clear affection brimming under the surface. 

"So why'd you break up?" Mario asks, his voice low like he already knows the answer.

"My dad pulled some strings and got me a job in New York. Some douchy new artist was looking for a drummer," Manu teases good-naturedly, eyeing Marco. "Long distance doesn't really work," he adds a second later.

That sobers Marco up. He feels the lump in his throat returning, a voice in the back of his head screaming at him to get out of this while he still can. He turns to Mario instead, who's just shoved the last of his grilled cheese in his mouth, that same uneasy look on his face. Marco smiles at him, tentative and unsure, and when Mario returns it, Marco can't stop himself from inching closer and pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. 

"Aww," Ann coos, pouting slightly. "This is nauseatingly cute," she says as she looks at the pair of them, and Marco feels his cheeks flush. Mario just smiles next to him. "I still can't believe Mario found you before I did."

"If it makes you feel better, you wouldn't have like me," Marco shrugs, straightening a little and adding his plate to the dirty pile in front of André. "Not in that way, at least."

 "What are you talking about?" Ann questions, lowering her sunglasses and narrowing her eyes at him. Marco smiles despite himself. It really took her less than five minutes to get over the fact that she's been wanting to meet him since she first heard his music. "Anyone who can throw a damn party like the one we attended yesterday is my kind of person."

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I had nothing to do with that. It was all Mats."

"Mats?" Ann shrieks.

"Mats," Marco confirms. "If it were up to me, we would've been playing Monopoly in bed."

"Good times," Manu sighs at the memory and Marco barks a laugh.

"You?" Ann turns her attention to Mats, essentially ignoring Manu and Marco. 

"Me."

Mats gives her his most innocent smile and Benni rolls his eyes.

"Ugh," Ann groans. "I can't break up the world's most perfect couple," she panics, looking from Mats to Benni who's already given up on breakfast and is lying on his back in nothing but swim shorts, his head propped up in Mats' lap, in a wasted effort to make his pale complexion look, well, less pale. Marco doesn't have the heart to tell him that he'll never manage that with all that damn sunscreen he lathers himself with. "Besides," Ann adds, "call me shallow but I can't be with a man who looks as good as I do. I don't need your perfect-looking ass to compete with mine. I can't have that."

Mats shrugs his shoulders but the smile on his face is more amused than anything else.

"Face it, Annie. You're stuck with me," David states from next to her, his toned body on full display in his white shorts, wayfarers covering his eyes as he soaks up the bright sun, and Marco notices for the first time how close the two are sitting next to each other.

"In your dreams, Alaba," Ann rolls her eyes but the smile on her face betrays her. "And don't call me Annie."

"Well, I do have more than enough fodder to sustain my dreams anyway."

"Ugh, it was one kiss!" Ann wails, hiding her face in her hands and Mario and André snicker next to Marco. This is some daytime soap opera shit right there. "I was drunk and you wouldn't even remember if it wasn't for Thiago and his big mouth."

"Yes, well, Thiago paints a very vivid picture," David teases and Ann laughs despite herself, ruffling her friend's hair before she pulls out her phone. 

"Hey Marco," she says, turning her attention back to him. "Can I at least have a picture so I can make all the bitches on my timeline jealous?" She asks, waving her phone at him.

"Ann, he doesn't want people knowing he's here," Mario argues next to Marco, his voice a little on edge. "You've been shouting about going to Ibiza for the past year. The press will get their hands on this."

"Are you kidding me," Manu snorts. "Look around you. Paps are everywhere."

"Paps?" Thomas asks.

"Paparazzi," Mats explains, looking to his left and flipping someone off with a shit-eating grin on his face before turning his attention back to his boyfriend.

"Look," Marco pulls Mario closer, pointing at the spot Mats was looking at. "There," he says, showing Mario the small canoe in the distance, the camera flashing at that exact moment. 

"Okay, I like getting photographed as much as the next person," Ann proclaims after having spotted them too, "but how the fuck do you put up with that?"

"You learn to ignore them," Marco shrugs. "They're going to keep doing it no matter how many times you bang their heads with that camera. And every once in a while, you stumble upon a picture of you that actually looks okay, or holds a special memory. It in no way makes up for the absolute lack of privacy, but you gotta take the bad with the good. The good being doing what you love. Being able to afford to do it."

"And you're not worried they'll see us together?" Mario whispers, scooting a little farther from Marco.

"I don't care what they see," Marco whispers back. "And if you're worried about the other night, they practically never work past sunset. And when they do, they're always trying to cover the parties, figuring that's where the action takes place."

"Oh."

"But if you don't think you can take it-"

"They've clearly already seen me so it's too late to back out now," Mario states, leaving no room for questions and scooting back closer to Marco, leaning up for a brief kiss. Marco smiles into it before turning his attention back to their friends.

"So, Ann, about that picture," he starts and Ann jumps up in excitement, earning a chuckle from David. "Let's use my phone and I'll forward it to you because I have a better camera."

"Whatever you want, master," Ann giggles as she circles around the group to flank herself on Marco's other side. 

He pulls out his phone, snapping a selfie of the both of them, Mario laughing at the crazy faces they both pull without even agreeing to. 

When Ann pulls away to attack Thomas on her other side in her bout of excitement, Marco starts typing wordlessly onto his phone. "Tag her," he whispers a second later to Mario, handing him the device, Ann still too busy rambling about. Mario looks confused for a second before he gets it, grabs the phone and types the needed information before clicking the post button.

"Hey Ann," Mario says as he gives Marco back his phone. "I'd check my Instagram if I were you."

"What?" Ann asks, furrowing her brow as she reaches for her phone, typing furiously for a second before she squeals. "Oh my god! 'Soaking up the sun with my new bff'? You posted it on your fucking Instagram! You have like a billion followers," she yells as she jumps on a laughing Marco and wraps her arms around his neck, her glossy lips leaving a sticky mess on his cheek before she bounces over to David and shoves her phone in his face, screaming about how that bitch Cathy can suck it. 

"You really, really do get used to it after a while," Mario reassures as Marco laughs next to him before wiping blindly at his cheek.

\-----

They spend some time after breakfast relaxing in the sun, lounging about and getting to know each other better, Thomas, Mats and Ann doing most of the talking. Marco finds himself on his back next to Mario, so close their arms are touching, feet propped up on the railing in front of them, Marco's other arm shielding his eyes from the too-bright sun. His fingers wind up in Mario's hair, combing randomly through the brown and golden locks, and sometimes, even with his eyes closed and covered, he can feel Mario turn to look at him, sometimes leaving barely-there kisses on his shoulder that never fail to make his heart skip a beat or two. He can't keep the smile off his face either, especially wide whenever he feels Mario laugh next to him when someone says something particularly funny, which lucky for Marco, happens a lot. 

They only get up when the sun gets too stuffy, Ann pulling Mario by the hand towards the edge of the upper deck, both screaming as they jump into the water like the idiots they are. Everyone ends up following suit, Thomas somehow managing to clumsily trip at the last second and ending up on his back in the water, which Marco readily admits would make him cry if it were him but Thomas resurfaces howling with laughter. Mats, of course, makes a perfect dive like the fucking Greek god he is before asking one of the waiters to throw the inflatable boat into the water. 

The boat, if you can call it that, is bright orange and big enough for three people, and they spend the next half-hour in hysterics, battling it out over who gets to actually use it, pretty much shoving one another off the boat and into the water the entire time. Marco only realizes how loud he's laughing when he hears the sound of his own voice echo around him, but Benni stands victorious in the boat for a second before Manu and Thomas flip the boat so fast he doesn't even have time to react before he's flying face-first into the water, and Marco and Ann are in another fit of laughter before he can think more on it. 

In the end, Marco relaxes proudly in the boat, one of his hands and both his feet dangling into the water, David sandwiched between him and Manu. Ann - the cheater! - crawls on top of David and perches herself in his lap, and Marco rolls his eyes at him when the boy sighs helplessly, clearly unable to deny her anything.

They float lazily for a while, Mats and Benni going back on the yacht to make out, André and Thomas laughing quietly as they hold on to the small ladder on the side of it. 

Marco startles when he feels something tug on his hand in the water, and when he turns to examine it, a smile lights up his features because Mario's looking up at him, holding on to the handle on the side of the boat with his other hand. 

"Hey," he whispers, squeezing his hand lightly.

"Having fun?" Mario asks, pulling himself up lightly so that he can swing both arms over the side, one of his hands reaching Marco's hip and running his fingers lightly over it, and Marco stares for a second at the contrast between them, Mario's caramel complexion against his pasty skin and tries not to think about how much this tickles.

Mario's face is closer to his now, small droplets of water glistening on his cheeks and nose and eyelashes in the daylight, tiny flecks of gold shining so bright in his eyes, and Marco's breath catches in his throat for a second, baffled by just how beautiful he looks right now. 

"The company could use some improvement," he shrugs when he finds his voice. 

"Is that so?" Mario laughs, pinching Marco's waist and making him wiggle in his seat.

"Careful Götze," David warns next to Marco, his head tilted back on the edge of the inflatable boat and his eyes closed. "You're going to tip us over."

"You heard the man," Marco teases, laughing as he tries to swat Mario's hand away. 

Mario pushes himself higher in an effort to get better access but before he can do anything Marco surprises him with a kiss. His hand slips barely a second after their lips meet and he ends up falling back into the water, successfully tipping the fragile boat over, and his friends barely have time to scream before they're back in the sea.

Marco hears Thomas and André's laughter echoing when he resurfaces, and when he opens his eyes, Mario's looking at him like the sun shines out of his ass and his cheeks flush.

"Seriously, that could not have waited?" Ann shrieks when she resurfaces, David coughing close by and Manu making his way towards the yacht.

Marco doesn't take his eyes off Mario, swimming a little closer to him and wrapping an arm around his waist under the water when he's close enough. He closes the distance once more to press their lips together, sighing contently when he pulls away.

"No, not really."

\-----

They spend the rest of the day in pure bliss, and the next few days alternating between spending more time on the yacht, visiting the island, even going to a water park on the fourth day. Marco feels less reluctant to go out and meet people the more time he spends with Mario and his friends, happily signing autographs and posing with the few fans who are brave enough to ask him for a picture. 

Mario doesn't go back to his hotel that night, spends the time rolling between the sheets with Marco instead. They wake up happy and exhausted the next day, and it takes them forever to get out of bed, happy to just lounge on the mattress and kiss the morning away, Marco's hand buried in Mario's hair while the boy's fingers explore his lower back slowly, teasingly, perfectly, and when they pull back to just look at each other, Mario's eyes soft and clouded with lust, his lips swollen and bruised and slick with spit, Marco can't take it anymore. They get out of bed only then, barely making it to the shower before Marco has Mario pressed up against the wall under the hot stream of water, buried so deep in him that he can't really tell where he ends and Mario begins, his lips sucking on Mario's neck with fervor, licking and claiming and wanting more, one of his hands pumping the boy furiously as he sighs and moans and falls apart under his touch. Marco's climax hits him hard and fast, releasing himself inside Mario, a blissful rush so strong that it travels through his veins and straight into his heart. He feels Mario come into his hand a second later, grabbing both of his hands after and wrapping them tighter around him. They stay like that for a while, fingers linked and sticky, arms together on Mario's stomach under the hot stream before Marco pulls himself out of Mario, turning the boy in his arms to kiss him once more, his palms warm and heavy on Mario's - perfect, there's no other word to describe it - ass.

Mats teases them endlessly when they make it downstairs sometime around noon, necks bruised and grins on full display, but later that day he orders the rest of Mario's brood to pack in their stuff and move into the mansion with them for the rest of their stay. It's no use wasting money on hotel rooms when they have more than enough room in the house for all of them, he argues, and besides, they only separate to sleep anymore, so it doesn't make any sense for them to stay there. And Thomas has already been spending his nights holed up in Manu's room so it just works better this way according to Mats. 

\-----

Three days later, shit hits the fan, so to speak. 

They're having lunch in town, Marco deep in conversation with André on their bar stools as the rest of their friends yap about around them, when a girl starts eyeing David, eventually seating herself next to him. They spend the entire lunch flirting much to Ann's dismay, getting inappropriately touchy and Marco has never seen Ann so quiet or pale since he's met her. Granted, he hasn't known her for long, but this Ann, the one sitting quietly between Mario and Benni, frowning as she stares at her barely touched food is definitely not the same vibrant, loud, sassy and always smiling girl Marco's come to associate her with. And David notices, Marco knows, because he doesn't miss his eyes when they stare at the back of Ann's head once or twice, a worried look flashing in them before he shakes himself out of it. He still bails on them and leaves the restaurant with the girl, and Ann jumps off her seat as soon as they're out of eye sight, plastering a fake smile on her face and asking what's next on the agenda.

They wander aimlessly around town for a while, Thomas and Manu flanking themselves on either side of her as they walk along the busy streets, Thomas' arm hanging loosely around her shoulder as he regales her with stories of Manu back in the day when he thought mullets were all the fashion. Mario and Marco walk a little bit further along the back, Marco's arm draped on Mario's shoulder as the boy circles his waist with his own, chuckling occasionally when Thomas' loud voice carries over to them.

Marco's just finished taking a picture with a group of fans - with Manu and Benni as well because his drummer and his bassist have their own crowd of supporters too - when Benni announces that he's decided to put his culinary skills to good use and cook them dinner, so they head over to the street market, losing themselves in the tight kiosks, the bright colors and textures and smells swirling around them as Benni stocks up on all kinds of things, from meats to vegetables to fruits and a million different kinds of colorful spices and herbs.

They get back home a little bit after sunset, Benni and André heading over to the kitchen as the rest of them go for a swim in the backyard pool. Ann seems to be smiling a lot easier by then, but she still zones out every few minutes lost in her head somewhere, until Mats decides to take matters into his own hands and dives into the water before reemerging with Ann screaming on his shoulders, yelling at him to put her down. Manu's helping Marco onto his own shoulders before Mats can even think about releasing her, and they gear up for a game of water wrestling. Marco wins the first round easily pushing Ann off Mats' back, and it's even easier to beat Thomas, his longs limbs awkward and unbalanced with Mario propping him up, and they both reemerge coughing and breathless when both Marco and Ann manage to overpower them. 

They only get out of the pool when it's time for dinner which turns out to be surprisingly delicious, Benni a better cook than any of them expects, except Mats who claims he picked Benni for his kitchen genius in the first place. 

Ann excuses herself after dessert, something about wanting some fresh air, and Marco allows himself to follow her out after a few minutes.

He finds her sitting in the private harbor, legs dangling into the dark water with a cigarette in hand.

"I didn't know you smoked," he says when he's close enough for her to hear him, and she smiles at him a little when he plops down next to her, dipping his bare feet into the water. 

"Eh," she shrugs her shoulders turning her gaze back to the dark horizon. "I'm a part-time model, it's either that or an eating disorder."

"I thought models were super healthy and shit."

"Those are Victoria's Secret models. Us regular ones who do stupid toothpaste commercials and the occasional catalog shoot can have our vices," she states in a very serious tone and Marco chuckles lightly.

"Mind if I bum one off you?" He asks and she raises her eyebrows at him as she hands him the pack. "I'm a musician, it's either that or a drug addiction," he shoots back as he holds a cigarette between his lips and proceeds to light it.

"Touché," she nods, laughing lightly, moving her makeshift ashtray - a plastic cup with a bit of water at the bottom and a few cigarette stubs - to place it between them.

Marco closes his eyes when he takes the first drag, blowing out some hoops expertly, enjoying the light breeze, the only sound around them the steady washing up of the waves on the shore nearby.

"Did they send you to check up on me?" She asks after a few moments of companionable silence.

"Not really," Marco shrugs. "I just felt like taking a walk and then I saw you sitting here alone in David's shirt and I thought you might want the company."

"This is not David's shirt!" Ann denies, seemingly scandalized. "I just picked up the first thing I found lying around when Benni called us in for dinner!"

"Which just happened to be the shirt David left lying on one of the chairs around the pool yesterday."

"This is Mario's shirt," Ann tries again, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Mario wouldn't buy a Bayern jersey. If he owns one, it would be a gift, and he wouldn't flaunt it around that proudly. If anything, he's the type who would own the number 37 Dortmund jersey."

"Number 37?" Ann asks, trying to keep from smiling.

"Erik Durm," Marco answers the question with so much certainty it even surprises him a little.

"Uh," Ann coughs, a little flustered, "you've been seeing him for a week and already you think you know him so well."

"I know my type," Marco counters smoothly.

"Up until Mario, your type was a pulse and a vagina!" 

Marco barks a laugh before he looks at Ann.

"Okay, wow, Mario really does tell you everything, doesn't he?" In another life, he would be pissed at such a flagrant violation of his privacy. As it stands right now though, he can't bring himself to do anything but laugh some more. "I know my new type," he tries again.

"Which is?"

"Sunny boys with bright smiles and chubby cheeks and tan bodies and sinfully perfect asses that confuse the crap out of me because that face with that ass and those abs is not something that up until that moment I first saw it I ever knew existed."

Ann doesn't say anything in return, beaming at Marco instead. His cheeks are on fire and damn Ann for being such an easy person to talk to.

"Don't look at me like that," he mumbles defensively.

"I'm not looking at you like anything," Ann snickers next to him and he feels his cheeks flush an even darker shade of red. "Sunny, huh?"

"It's actually what I used to call him in my head before I met him. When I first saw him. Because that fucking smile," he goes on and he winces at himself. "Fuck, Ann, why am I telling you all this? If you repeat this to anyone," he threatens in vain.

"I'm offended you'd think I would!" She huffs, throwing her cigarette stub in the paper cup and punching Marco lightly. "It's kinda cute, actually. I wish someone would call me Sunny before they meet me. And for the record, Mario does own Durm's jersey."

"I knew it!" Marco yells victoriously and Ann laughs loudly.

They both settle after that, quieting down for a moment.

"So, they didn't send me here to check up on you," Marco mumbles after a while, fiddling with his fingers. "But did you need checking up on?" 

Ann smiles sadly, bumping their shoulders and turning her eyes towards the water. 

"How is this my life? How is Marco Reus comforting me because some boy pissed me off my life?" 

"Honestly, up until you, I didn't even know I could be friends with any of my fans," Marco admits. 

"So we're friends?" Ann asks, her lip quirked up in an uncharacteristically shy smile.

"I just told you that your best friend's dimples and ass would get me hard any day of the week," Marco muses and Ann cackles delightedly. "I think it's safe to assume we're friends." He smiles at her, a surge of affection bursting through him for the girl. How is it that last week he was reluctant about even letting Manu in and now he had five more people he cared about more than he liked to admit? "And, as your friend," he adds, shivering a little as a breeze hits him, "I get to tell you that whatever you're feeling, it won't go away if you try to bury it. Trust me."

Ann looks down for a second, taking a deep breath before she looks back at Marco. 

"David's never asked me out," she says. "Did you know that?"

Marco shakes his head lightly. "I figured, from the way you guys talked-"

"That he asked me out and I blew him off," Ann finishes for him. "For a time, when he first started making those jokes about wanting to be with me, I actually believed he did and I just forgot or something. But he never did."

"And do you want him to ask you out?" Marco asks in a low voice.

"I don't know. Maybe," she hesitates. "Sometimes I think I do," she mumbles, "but there's other times when I think I just know too much. I know him too much, too well, and I just worry that if it doesn't work out..." She trails off, her eyes shining slightly but she blinks away any hint of a tear before it can roll down her cheek. "I just don't know if it's worth the risk. I don't know if I can do without him anymore, and he's just been hurt real bad that I know it won't ever be the same if it doesn't work out. I mean, I don't even know if I like him that way."

"You don't like David?" Marco scoffs and Ann rolls her eyes.

"That's not what I mean, idiot. I love him. I just don't know if I want to go out with him."

"Then why are you sitting here being all angsty if not because he's spending the night with some girl he just met?"

"I just- I don't understand why he's so ready to ask everyone out but me."

"Did you stop to think that it's maybe because you probably can hurt him in a way none of these other girls can?" Ann turns her gaze to look at him, her sad eyes tugging on his heart. "I don't know what happened in his past, but I can tell it must've messed him up horribly if he still feels like he can't actually be intimate with a girl. Not in the physical sense, from what I've gathered he's more than willing when it comes to that, but he doesn't let himself get attached. It's just one girl after the other for just a night, two at most, and it's safe. No room for feelings, no room for more hurt."

"You think I want to hurt him?" Ann asks, an edge to her voice.

"Not intentionally, no. Again, I've only known you guys for a short while so I can't really judge that much, but the way he seems to care about you, you can hurt him without even trying, Ann. He seems to let his guard down around you, I can tell he'd trust you with anything. But right now, there's no physical intimacy to complicate things."

"So what am I supposed to do?" 

"Figure it out," Marco shrugs. "Weigh it out, see if giving a relationship with him a go is worth the risk. If it is, then ask him out."

"And if it's not?" She asks sadly, slumping tiredly, her eyes weary.

"Then stop feeling like shit every time he's off with someone."

"Easier said than done," she mutters.

Marco sighs thoughtfully, his own looming devastation on his mind. Mario's leaving in three days, and whatever illusions Marco has about them will undoubtedly be gone with him. 

"Caring sucks," she spits out.

"Tell me about it," Marco laughs bitterly, moving the plastic cup between them to his other side before scooting closer to Ann and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Do you want to google some paparazzi pictures of us? Maybe they managed to catch a decent shot of you this morning."

"Seriously, how is this my life?" She asks again, looking up at him with a smile on her face. Marco laughs lightly, squeezing her shoulder.

"Stop acting starstruck, it freaks me out."

She doesn't say anything, laughs softly as she settles back against him.

"You guys don't have to end it, you know," she whispers after a moment, sighing deeply as she relaxes under his touch and leans her head lightly on his shoulder. 

"We kinda do," Marco answers tiredly. "The first thing Mario insisted on when we decided to give it a go was that it starts and ends in Ibiza."

"But neither of you want that," Ann argues, pulling back a little to look up at him. "I might not know you all that well either but I'd have to be blind not to see just how completely gone for him you are. And Mario may be my best friend, but he can be hella stubborn when he wants to be, and right now, he's just scared so he's being even worse than usual."

"He's right, Ann," Marco tries weakly. "You heard Manu, long distance doesn't work."

"It's not the same thing," she objects. "Besides, they were talking about giving it another go, actually."

"Manu and Thomas?"

"Yep," Ann nods with a smile on her face. "Figured they were too young and didn't even try to make it work the first time around. But it's different this time, they both know it."

"Whoa."

"Yep," Ann echoes, leaning back against him. "I mean what are the odds of finding the love of your life on vacation in Ibiza?"

"Two out of two in our little group, apparently," a voice speaks up behind Ann and Marco, startling them both so phenomenally that they gasp audibly and jump apart like they've been electrocuted.

"What are you doing here? How long have you been standing there?" Ann rushes out in a panicked voice when they turn to find David making his way over to them, and Marco can swear he can hear Ann's heartbeat all the way from where he is.

"I just got here," David shrugs nonchalantly, plopping himself down next to Ann. "Nice shirt."

"Yeah well, Schweinsteiger always did do it for me," she mumbles. "I thought you were busy with that girl you met," she spits out before turning her eyes away from him.

"Samantha," David starts, sighing deeply, "lives in Tampa, Florida. She's an aspiring actress and a part time nurse. Her favorite movie's The House Bunny, her favorite actor Jason Statham because, and I quote, 'he's the next Al Pacino.' Her favorite drink is Sex on the Beach and her favorite rapper is Marco Reus."

"I don't rap," Marco objects. "At least not when Benni's snores are not around to beatbox for me."

"And if she's so into him how come she didn't recognize him when he was literally two barstools away from you?" 

"My point exactly. It was around the fifteen minute mark that I realized that I am completely uninterested in her."

"You're never interested in them," Ann points out. 

"True," David nods. "But I usually don't have more important things to do."

"What's more important this time?" Ann quizzes, furrowing her brow.

"Spending time with people I'm actually interested in," David shrugs and Marco can see Ann's eyes soften before she turns to look at him.

He feels like an intruder all of a sudden, clears his throat, starting to get up.

"I'm gonna go back inside," he fumbles, "Mario's waiting for me."

Ann looks at him like she's just realized he's there, and something clicks, her features sobering up marginally.

"Yeah, yeah," she mutters, getting up and brushing some sand off her clothes in the process. "It's getting cold."

"Yeah," David nods. "Sure. I'll be right behind you guys," he stutters, gulping audibly before turning away from them to look back at the sea.

Marco meets Ann's eyes for a second, so tempted to force her to stay when he notices the crestfallen look on David's face. She shakes her head at him just a fraction, and Marco knows better than to interfere. 

Ann walks away before he can do anything else, and Marco takes one last look at David's slumped figure before following her back towards the house.

He finds Mario sprawled on the couch in the living room looking freshly showered in nothing but a pair of cotton shorts. He slumps down next to him wordlessly, burrowing his head in his collarbone and wrapping one arm around his waist in an entirely possessive hold. He probably looks like a needy bastard right now but he couldn't care less, not when Mario's fingers find his hair automatically, combing though his blond locks gently. He feels himself relax against him, tries not to freak out at how much this boy he's known for a week feels like home. 

"You smell like chlorine and cigarettes," Mario mumbles, tracing his temple with his nose and Marco feels himself grow pale at the sheer intimacy of it all.

"Your friends are giving me a headache," he shoots back into his neck instead, tightening his hold on him and feeling his heart jump in his chest when Mario shakes in quiet laughter against him. 

"Join the club."

\-----

Marco wakes up in a particularly sour mood the next day, unable to think about anything other than not waking up in Mario's arms in two days. He feels Mario move next to him, scooting closer to him as if reading his thoughts, fitting his head perfectly under Marco's chin, lips puckered in slumber and hands fisted into Marco's cotton shirt. 

He sighs as he closes his eyes and tries to get some more sleep, the dark sky outside telling him it's still entirely too early even for his severely damaged internal clock. 

When he wakes up the next time, it's to a pair of lips leaving a wet trail of kisses along his jaw and fingers wrapped perfectly around his remarkably alert cock. He gives Mario head for the first time that morning, slightly nervous at first but then quite at ease and completely turned on by the sheer control he has over the boy as Mario falls apart under him, every lick and squeeze and suck eliciting deliciously dirty moans and curses out of him, his fingers pumping expertly into him as he takes him in whole time and time again, hollowing his cheeks and cupping his balls with his other hand. Mario comes in a strangled cry around his fingers and into his mouth, with his name on his lips, pulling him back up to kiss him fervently, wrapping his fingers around his cock once more and stroking only a couple of times before Marco empties his load as well.

They don't move for a while after that, arms wrapped tightly around each other as they lie happy and delirious and sticky with sweat and come, neither daring to move for fear of missing one moment of the very limited time they still have together.

They eventually give in and make their way to the shower when Thomas threatens to send everyone in his address book that photo of Mario in nothing but a pair of polka-dotted fuchsia speedos that he has on his phone if they don't get out of bed right now.

It takes them even longer to get out of the shower, only untangling themselves and walking out when Mario starts shivering under the now-cold stream.

They end up going to the beach, Marco's reluctance to join them for once having nothing to do with the large crowds of people he knows will be staring and more to do with the fact that he'd much rather spend the day cooped up in bed with Mario snuggled comfortably in his arms.

He lies as close to Mario as possible when they get there, some part of them touching at all times, watching as Ann proceeds to drunkenly flirt with anyone who catches her eye, which happens to be everyone on the beach, girls included. Unlike Ann, David is better at hiding his dislike for the whole thing, not once looking at her as he proceeds to ignore her, but he remains quiet and staring off into space the entire time until Marco, feeling slightly uncomfortable with so many people watching his every move and entirely too exposed, suggests they go paddle boating. David jumps at the opportunity to get away and André asks to join them, only Mario and Mats staying behind to keep an eye on Ann while the rest of their brood head over to rent some jet-skis.

It's so easy to be around David and André, Marco learns (although he did not have my doubts about that in the first place), spending the entire ride arguing with David about football, waxing poetic about Dortmund while David sings Bayern's praises, André shouting in the back about Wolfsburg being the best. Eventually, they settle on two things: Bastian Schweinsteiger may very well be the most complete player ever and Jürgen Klopp should rule the world.

They go out to some open air pub that night, and it's nice and fun at first. They're all gathered around one of the high tables, the music loud and fast around them, enjoying themselves and toasting one thing after the other.

Ann is close by on the other side of the pub, looking absolutely gorgeous in her perfectly curled hair and short red skintight dress, drunkenly dancing with André close to a group of guys. Marco notices David tense up next to him when one of them gets up and joins her, and while Ann smiles at him at first, she starts looking more uncomfortable the closer her gets to her. David and Mats are halfway out of their seats by then, and when the man puts an arm around her waist and André pushes him off her, they're all quick to get up, David shoving the man off her so quick, grabbing him hard by the collar and pushing him towards his friends so angrily he stumbles on his way and ends up on his ass.

"David!" Ann yells but it falls on deaf ears as one of the offender's friends gets up to shove David back, and suddenly they're trying to get Mats, David and Marco off a couple of the boys as they start throwing punches, Ann screaming as she grabs frantically at David's elbow in a miserable attempt to get him to back off.

Marco only sobers up when he feels Mario's grounding hands on his back and elbow, pleading with him to stop, and he backs off slowly and surrenders to Mario's grip, his breathing hard and labored as he keeps staring for a moment before he helps Manu pull David back and essentially drag him out of the pub. Benni, Thomas and André are trying to get Mats to calm down as the group of boys shrink back into the corner, finding themselves severely outnumbered.

"I'm sorry," Marco whispers in Mario's ear as soon as they're on the street, holding on to Mario's waist as the boy examines his face with shaky fingers. "I'm so sorry."

"Shhh," Mario soothes as he shakes his head and leaves a featherlight kiss to the side of Marco's mouth where he knows he's bleeding, folding himself into him arms. "You were just trying to protect my friend," Mario adds, but his arms around Marco's waist tighten. 

"What the fuck was that?!" Ann screams at David, pulling them out of their bubble, the low music carrying over to them and a few passersby looking at them as they make their way.

"Stop yelling, Ann," David winces, rubbing his bruised knuckles, clearly in pain.

"You had no right!" She pushes through, coming closer to him. "I didn't ask for your help. I was handling him on my own!"

"Fucking grow up, Ann!" He yells loudly before taking a deep breath to calm himself. "His hands were all over you," he mutters.

"It's none of your business where his hands were," Ann counters, her voice a little lower but the anger evident in her tone. "I don't need you to take care of me. You're not my fucking boyfriend." Her eyes grow wide even as she speaks the words, the regret painfully clear on her face as she holds one hand to her mouth, her eyes big and shiny as she takes in the boy in front of her.

It's at that moment that Thomas, Mats, Benni and André finally make their way out of the pub, Mats pressing an icepack to his cheek, and Thomas hands Mario one which he gratefully accepts and hurries to press it to Marco's bruised lip.

"Right," David whispers, smiling sadly at the ground before clearing his throat and meeting Ann's eyes once again. "I'm not," he echoes before turning away and leaving her standing there.

Thomas looks unnaturally pale and worried for a second, watching his friend walk away from them, before he pulls himself together and runs after David.

\-----

"I don't want to have to find other roommates."

They'd been home and in Marco's room for all of two minutes when Thomas burst through the door, seemingly on his way to a nervous breakdown, towing a tired Manu along. He's been sprawled on Marco's bed, head propped up on Mario's thigh, fretting over his two roommates/best friends fighting ever since.

"Thomas, relax," Mario tries for the tenth time. "It's not the first fight they've had. No one's going to move out." He sounds tired and more worried than he's pretending to not be, Marco notices, but even so his entire energy is focused on trying to soothe his best friend, pushing Thomas' hair back like a mother trying to calm her baby down.

"But it's the worst one yet!" Thomas wails. "What if Ann moves out?" He cries out, his eyes so wide Marco would find it funny if he didn't look so genuinely distressed, his voice thick with worry. "We can't survive without her cooking. We need her cooking, Mario!" 

"Ann is not going to mo-"

"You don't know that!" He interrupts, getting up so suddenly and turning to face Mario who almost falls off the bed in his surprise. Marco's steadying arms wrapping around him when he flanks himself on the bed next to them are the only thing that keep him from rolling onto his back. "And what if David moves out? Who's gonna watch Bayern games with me and pretend to like my horse stories? I mean, no offense Mario, I love you, but you like Dortmund," he crinkles his noise in disgust, "and I love that it's always been the four of us, I don't want us to be alone."

"I know, Mülli," Mario sighs deeply. "I don't want us to be alone either," he murmurs sadly.

"Come on, Thomas," Manu urges after a quiet moment, getting off the floor and pulling his friend off the bed. "Let's just go get some rest and worry about that tomorrow."

"Alright," he concedes, taking Manu's hand and following him out. "Goodnight guys."

"Night," Marco mutters as the door shuts behind their friends. 

He gets up for a moment, leaving a silent Mario staring at the ceiling. He pulls his clothes off and leaves nothing but his boxers on, then proceeds to help Mario out of his shoes and pants, leaving his shirt on, always too cold to start the night without it. He slips into bed next to him, lies on his side to face him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him close until Mario mirrors his position, fiddling idly with the tiny blond hairs on Marco's chest.

"So, how are you really feeling?" Marco asks in a low voice, already knowing the answer as he drapes one of the thin sheets on them, Mario's legs tangling with his. 

"Worried as fuck," Mario admits tiredly. "Thomas is right. They've never fought like that. I've never seen David like this, Marco. He's never walked out on her. Even when he knows he's right, he always goes after Ann."

"Maybe he's just tired of wanting something he can't have," Marco whispers, his throat clogging. It seems they all want things they can't have.

"Yeah," Mario murmurs and Marco feels his breath on his neck even before he can hear his shaky sigh. 

"Tomorrow's your last day here," he says, pulling him even closer to his chest and Mario buries his face in him, his fingers softly tracing the outline of his waist, lips pressing gentle kisses into his skin. "What do you want to do?"

"Nothing," Mario sighs again, pulling himself a little higher and finding Marco's lips with his. "I just want you," he continues, relaxing against him.

"Okay."

\-----

It's too early when Marco wakes up the next morning, the sky still a grey color when he cranes his neck to peek out his open window. 

He smiles as he takes in the boy lying next to him, head resting on the pillow next to Marco's shoulder and arm draped across his chest, lips jutted outward in an adorable pout. Marco turns as slowly as he can to take a better look at him without waking him up, running his fingers carefully trough his brown hair, soft locks messily sticking up in all directions. He feels his heart squeeze in his chest when he thinks about today being the last day he gets to wake up next to him, gets to kiss him, gets to pretend like they've known each other their whole lives, like they've been together since then too. And it's weird, because it does feel like they have been. Marco knows Mario. Maybe not as much as he'd like to, but definitely more than he should. He knows how Mario wrinkles his nose at the first sip he takes of his morning coffee, the bitter taste burning his tongue before he always adds two spoons of sugar. He knows that he spends too much time styling his hair in front of the mirror everyday, but is never actually satisfied when he's done. He knows that when he's got a hat on, then said dissatisfaction has reached its fullest potential. He knows that he loves playing football but hates running, that he doesn't like seafood but loves the sea, and that he'll watch any cartoon on TV for fifteen minutes before he starts getting restless, itching to go out. He knows the exact shade of red that dusts his cheeks when he catches Marco looking at him, knows the difference between that color and the flush that takes hold of him when he screams Marco's name into the night, muffling the sound into his shoulder, nails digging into his back as Marco pushes into him, stretching him and burying himself so deep inside as he etches soothing words into his skin. He feels a lump form in his throat when he thinks about all the things he doesn't know about Mario, the things he will never get to learn. Like the way his eyes probably light up at the first snowfall, or how good he is behind a bar, if he knows how to throw bottles around like they do in movies, or the exact shade his cheeks would color when Marco inevitably told him he loved him.

But he's not there yet. He's teetering very much on the edge, one single push enough to send him falling down into that trap his heart is setting for him. He's almost relieved he won't ever have to fall. Not with Mario leaving tomorrow.

Mario moves lightly in his sleep, turning slightly towards Marco and scooting closer until his face is buried in his chest, sighing contently and pressing a light kiss to the pale skin there as he tightens his hold on him. For a second, Marco thinks that he's awake, but Mario doesn't stir beyond that, and Marco feels himself choke up a little because he's never felt this way about anyone before. Never allowed himself to feel this way. Still doesn't allow himself to feel this way, but somehow Mario broke through all the barriers like a ray of the brightest sun, melting every wall he's built on its way until all that was left is Marco, naked and exposed.

He doesn't know how long he's lying there, his mind drifting back to his days on the street of London with Mats. Or more like the end of those days. He remembers it clearly even though he'd had a few drinks before taking the tiny makeshift stage at the pub, strumming his guitar as he crooned the night away, revealing himself like he only did when he was lost in his music. The label representative had come up to him right after his set looking ridiculously put together for that hole in the wall they were at, and had proceeded to whisk him off to the nearest five-star hotel. It was a slight shock to his system and probably everyone in that Hilton lobby, his greasy hair, dirt-stacked fingernails and frayed layered clothes a stark contrast to the polished surfaces of the place. He'd felt so uncomfortable under their scrutinizing gaze but Mats just stared at them as he tied his too-long hair and walked confidently towards the elevators. And that's pretty much how it's always been. Marco, nervous and uncomfortable and unwilling to try new things, a perfect opposite of Mats, so confident and sure of himself and everything he did. 

Until Mario, that is, he thinks sadly to himself, his fingers tracing soft cheeks before he leans back to drop a feathery kiss on his nose. Mario's opened him up in a way no one has been able to do before, showing him the world in a different light, willing him not to shy away from the beauty of it. It sounds ridiculous even in his head, he's barely known the boy for ten days after all, but that doesn't make it any less true. He's gone out in the past week more than he has in the past year, his smiles easier and brighter than he's used to, the dread in his chest whenever he has to face the world and its people somehow lighter around Mario.

He feels a flutter on his chest, like butterfly wings on his skin, and he pulls away to find Mario's eyelids fluttering as he struggles to open his eyes against the now bright daylight. Mario smiles lazily at him when their eyes meet, closing his lids again and snuggling into Marco's chest, dropping whispered kisses onto his collarbone and taking Marco's hands in his to wrap his arms around his back. Marco laughs lightly, obediently pulling the boy closer and holding him firmly against him, pressing his lips to his neck and just breathing him in, happy to just feel Mario's skin under him. Mario's fingers comb through Marco's hair in an almost soothing manner, his fingertips tracing patterns that feel like they could be a permanent part of Marco's skin.

He closes his eyes and just feels the boy around him, his breathing lulling him back into sleep.

\-----

When they make it down to the kitchen hours later, fingers linked and smiles plastered on, David's on one of the stools, nursing a large cup of coffee, a half-eaten omelet in his plate. 

His smile, while easy and happy as he wishes them a good morning, looks a little uncomfortable on his face, like he doesn't believe it belongs there. Mario pours two cups of coffee, handing one to Marco before throwing some pancakes from the stove onto an empty plate and plopping down next to David. He lathers some butter on the top layer before he grabs the bottle of syrup off the counter and squeezes a healthy dollop onto his stack of floury treats. He takes a sip of his coffee before he digs in to his food, muttering something about sugar and getting off his stool to Marco's complete delight. 

Marco's just seated himself on the other side of the counter when Ann walks into the kitchen looking perfectly put together, hair pulled up in a high ponytail and legs on full display in short shorts. She's smiling a lot easier than yesterday, even coming up to drop kisses on Marco and Marco's cheeks.

David doesn't look up from his plate, Marco notices, grinding his teeth as he pushes his food around with a fork, shoulders stiff and posture suddenly entirely too uncomfortable. 

"I'm just going to take some orange juice upstairs," Ann explains lightly as she rifles through the fridge. "Manu's served Thomas and me breakfast in bed but he forgot the juice and Mülli panicked," she shrugs, a fond smile on her face. "Do you guys want some before I confiscate it?" She pauses in her tracks, holding out the carton box as Mario and Marco both shake their heads. "David?" She asks, looking at her friend, her voice hesitant and unusually low, like she's testing the waters. He looks up from his eggs, slightly dazed, and when his eyes meet Ann's, they carefully take each other in. "Uh, no, I'm- I'm fine," he stutters eventually, shaking his head a little and pointing at his coffee. 

Ann nods her head slowly, a pained smile on her face, her gaze lingering a little longer on David as he turns his eyes back to his food before she leaves the kitchen.

"Are you okay?" Mario whispers after a second, nudging David lightly with his elbow.

"I can go-" Marco starts, already halfway off his seat, feeling like he's intruding on something.

"No, no please don't," David lets out hurriedly, leaning over Mario to push Marco back into his seat. Marco smiles at him as he nods his head lightly. "I'm sorry I ruined your night yesterday."

"You didn't," Mario says before Marco can object as well.

"I kinda did," David insists. 'It's bad enough that we're leaving at dawn, I had to pick a fight and drag you into it too when I know how much you hate the attention. If the press get a whiff of this-"

"I don't care about the press, David," Marco interjects. "If you hadn't gone over to stop that asshole, I would've done it myself."

"Yeah but you would've done it to actually protect Ann, not because you were feeling like a jealous prick," David mutters sourly, turning blank eyes back to his food as he continues to push it around on his plate. "She's right, though. I'm not her boyfriend. And just because we spend so much time together that I sometimes forget, doesn't give me the right to act like I am. I just," he hesitates for a second, "I just need some time away from her."

"So what are you saying?" Mario asks, his face paling and Marco thinks back to Thomas lying on his bed in a complete state of panic.

"I'm not moving out," David reassures immediately and Mario breathes a sigh of relief. "I can't put Thomas through that, I know how worried he was yesterday, I could hear him all the way to my room. I'm sure Ann did as well. But I can't stay with her in the same room anymore. We're too close, Mario. So maybe when we get back to Munich I could switch rooms with you or Mülli. I mean, I basically sleep all day long and by the time Ann's back from work I'm usually on my way to the pub for my shift. If we're not sleeping in the same room, then I won't see her that much. And maybe then I'll be really able to move on."

Mario nods jerkily, his gaze worried as he takes in his friend. David looks up at them with a weak smile, getting up to drop his half empty plate in the sink.

"Mats is waiting for me to help him plan the party for tonight. Says he doesn't want to hire a DJ, wants me to spin the decks instead," he tells them as he cracks his knuckles nervously.

"I'm sure you'll kill it," Mario smiles genuinely.

"I'll see you guys later," David says before walking out of the room. 

They're both quiet for a moment, mulling over the morning's events before Mario speaks. "It's the first time he's admitted there's something to move on from."

Marco sighs as he shoves the last of his food in his mouth, wrapping an affectionate arm around Mario's shoulder. "It's going to be okay," he reassures him before dropping a light kiss to his neck. Mario cringes a little next to him, his nose wrinkling in the most adorable way. "What?"

"Your mouth is sticky with syrup," he admits, wiping at his neck and Marco laughs louder than he's done all morning before he presses his face to Mario's neck teasingly and the boy almost falls off his chair in his haste to run away.

"Alright!" Thomas announces as he bounces into the room with Benni only to find Mario and Marco in the middle of the kitchen, Marco's arms around the boy, trying to press his sticky lips on every inch of Mario that's exposed while the latter wiggles in his arms as he tries to escape, his loud laughter echoing through the house. "Let's go children! The yacht awaits. You can make us all sick to our stomach with your antics on there." 

Marco laughs even louder as he pulls back from Mario, taking his hand in his and following his friends out.

\-----

They spend the day on the boat again, just like their first day together, minus Mats and David who remain on dry land to take care of the party planning. Mario and Marco are glued to each other the entire time, and Marco can't even feel bad that he's basically doing what he's always faulted Mats for doing, sticking to Benni even when there's a million other people around. The only thing he can think about is Mario, his smiling lips perfect against his, his eyes bright and happy and looking at Marco like he makes his world turn. Thomas and Ann both seem to be in much better spirits as well, taking turns on the inflatable water wheel and pretty much pushing everyone else off it. Eventually, Thomas and Manu stomp back onto the yacht and essentially manhandle Marco and Mario apart, Manu hauling Mario over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and jumping in the water, Mario's loud squeals of protest and laughter disappearing only for a couple of seconds when they're submerged in water. Marco and Thomas jump right in after them and Marco isn't even ashamed when the first thing he does is swim towards Mario and wrap his arms around him as Mario kisses him happily, lips salty and wet against his, hair falling into their eyes and their friends talking loudly around them.

They only pull apart to push Ann-Kathrin off the wheel and Marco knows he's beyond whipped when he doesn't even think about claiming the inflatable toy for himself, helping Mario on it instead as the boy beams at him.

They make it back to the dock sometime around seven, almost an hour later than they promised Mats - who needs the yacht to set up the DJ's equipment - but all it takes to shut him up is Benni kissing him as he ushers the rest of them to make a run for it behind his boyfriend's back.

The party is pretty much the most fun Marco's had in his entire life. They spend the entire time on the boat, not wanting to be apart from David who's a surprisingly awesome DJ, dancing and jumping around to the music and getting lost in the neon colors and loud beats as they drown one shot after the other. Even Ann and David seem to be acting civil towards each other, at one point Ann handing David a drink which he does not turn down.

It's shortly after midnight when Mario squeezes Marco's fingers, and when the blond turns to look at him, his heart catches in his throat. The look on his face, somewhere between fear and helplessness and just grief pulls Marco back to earth, the proximity of their impending separation hitting him full force. Marco can't do anything but close the distance and press their lips together, his hands coming to cup his cheeks as he kisses his way into his mouth, Mario's fingers tangling in his shirt around his waist in a desperate attempt to pull their bodies even closer together.

"Wanna get out of here?" Marco asks when they eventually break apart, cheeks warm and breathing labored.

Mario doesn't say anything back, just nods as he presses another light kiss to his lips before pulling away.

They turn to say goodbye to their friends before they make their escape, aware it might be the last time they see some of them. 

Marco makes sure he has all of their numbers stored on his phone as he hugs them goodbye, doing that weird handshake André taught him and squeezing David tightly. He holds Ann for a lot longer than he expects himself to, promising to keep pimping her up on social media before he presses a couple of kisses to her temple and pulls back. She looks up at him with wide tearful eyes, grin perfectly intact on her face and Marco's heart breaks a little. It gets even worse when Thomas makes him promise to take care of Manu for him, his voice breaking slightly as he whispers his request in Marco's ear. 

When Marco finally pulls back from them he finds Mario sandwiched in a Mats-Benni-Manu hug, his wet laughter loud enough for Marco to hear him, tufts of brown hair visible where Mario is squeezed against the giants around him. Mats affectionately ruffles his hair when they finally let him go, thanking him for "finally getting my lobster of a best friend to come out of his shell."

Marco links his fingers with Mario's as they walk off the boat, turning to take one last look at his new and old friends, memorizing their faces and silently hoping this isn't the last time he sees them.

\-----

"Tell me something I don't know," Mario whispers in the dark of the room.

They've been back in their room for a while now, lying naked together in bed with only their sheets to protect them from the world. Marco feels his heart beat painfully in his chest when he realizes he just thought of it as _their_ room, the voice in the back of his head reminding him that it's actually not, that there is no _them_ in the first place, that Mario's going to walk out of his life in a few hours and it will be like they never even met. Except that they did meet and Marco isn't really sure how he's ever going to forget that.

The windows are closed and the door locked in an effort to drown out the music from outside, the air conditioning turned on to keep them from melting in the suffocating heat. They can hear the music still, of course, but it's so faint that it's almost comforting in a way.

They took their clothes off as soon as they shut the door behind them, but neither actually moved to do anything physical after that, both coming to some silent agreement that this is not how they want to spend their last few hours together. They just got into bed instead, Mario folding himself into Marco's arms and resting his head on his chest, drawing patterns on his stomach as Marco whispered kisses into his hair, arms tight around him, legs tangled together under the sheets. They've been laying silently since then, Mario's current request being the first words either of them have spoken since they've holed themselves in here.

"Something you don't know," Marco repeats. Mario nods faintly against him, his hair tickling Marco's chin, and the latter smiles to himself. "I call you Sunny in my head."

"Sunny?" Mario wonders, stirring a little against him before resuming his light ministrations on Marco's stomach.

"Sunny," Marco confirms. "It's because that first time I saw you on the beach, when you were acting all dark and broody in that black hoodie of yours," he explains earning a chuckle from Mario, "you were looking at your phone and then right before you sat down on the sand you looked up with a smile on your face so bright that it actually hurt to look at." Mario laughs against him, Marco feeling through his chest, and when Mario looks up at him, his cheeks are flushed and his pearly whites are on full display. "See?" Marco asks, nodding at his face. "You're doing it right now and I feel like I have to close my eyes to protect them. It's sunny. There's no other way to describe it."

"You are such a jar full of soft cheese," Mario declares as he chuckles some more and Marco barks a laugh.

"I'm not cheesy!" He argues even as he beams widely. "I just call it like it is. How would describe my smile?" He urges, trying to make a point.

"Crooked and evil and bordering on serial-killer territory sometimes," Mario shoots at him and he can't stop his booming laughter from echoing around the room.

"Asshole," he manages to let out as he cackles, squeezing Mario a little too tightly around the waist and earning himself a kick in the shin as Mario startles against him.

"Stop it!" Mario chortles, wiggling against Marco in a pathetic attempt to escape his fingers.

"Alright, alright," Marco concedes, his laughter dying down as he wraps his arms firmly around Mario again who just sighs peacefully and presses a tiny kiss to his chest before resting his head against it. "It's your turn," he whispers after a minute. "Tell me something I don't know."

"I own an Erik Durm jersey."

"I know that," Marco admits and he's pretty sure the smile on his face can be heard in his voice. 

"I never told you!" Mario protests. 

"Doesn't mean I didn't know." He grins as he buries his face in Mario's hair again, trying to memorize everything about this moment, how soft the brown locks feel on his cheeks, breathing Mario in and locking the exact smell of him somewhere in his heart. "I had my suspicions and they were only confirmed by Ann-Kathrin."

"Ugh, I knew I would come to regret introducing you to that girl." The smile on his face that Marco can feel against his chest completely belies the annoyed edge to his voice, and he takes a moment to drop a few more kisses to Marco's chest before resuming. "Something you don't know is I like some of your songs."

"What?" Marco's taken completely off guard here. "I thought you didn't know me before we met."

"I didn't," Mario confirms. "I knew of you, obviously, since I don't live under a rock and one of my best friends was willing to sell her soul to the devil to meet you," he rambles before getting back on track. "Anyway, Ann has this mix that she plays on a loop in her car. On that second day after we met, when I tried to run away from you," he pauses for a second, sighing deeply and looking up at Marco to leave a small kiss to his chin before he turns his gaze away from him again, "she told me that the only songs I ever allowed her not to skip over on that mix were yours."

"But you're into Hip Hop," Marco furrows his brow lightly. "I'm the furthest thing from Hip Hop there is."

"True, but that doesn't mean I can't like anything else or appreciate good music when I hear it," Mario shrugs.

"You like my music," Marco says incredulously, his features lighting up at the revelation.

He's never had any doubts about his music, never questioned himself or his abilities. When people called him talented he always recoiled slightly because to him, that wasn't talent, that was just a part of him, a trait of his, being able to write lyrics and music and sing them. He can't ever imagine himself not being able to do that because it's a natural part of him, just like the color of his eyes or the freckles on his skin or that weird-looking small toe of his. But somehow knowing that Mario actually likes his music, that he's somehow touched him if only a little even before they met makes his heart grow, his lungs burning with relief and his cheeks flushing lightly. 

"I do. My favorite song is the one about those two people who meet in the city. I can't remember the title but there's a part I like where you say 'the rush of people threatening to sweep him away in their confused blissfulness until their eyes meet and he is more grounded to this world than he's been his entire life.'"

"Yeah," Marco nods, feeling his heart soar because Mario actually knows his words, sang them easily like he's done so before. "It's called 'Strangers on Dry Land' and I actually wrote that one about Mats and Benni."

"Yes!" Mario looks up at him excitedly. "That's the one. And okay wow, it feels so weird to actually know the people who inspired it."

Marco chuckles deeply, leaving a butterfly kiss to Mario's scrunched-up nose.

"I couldn't not write it," he admits. "You should've seen them the first time they met. We were auditioning band members and we'd seen about sixty bassists before him, most of them way overqualified. I was nervous enough about having to have a band when I'd been performing with only my guitar my entire life, so I needed people who had the same way about them as me. People more about the song than their own talent. Anyway, when Benni walked onto that stage, his cheeks completely flushed even in the dim light, I swear Mats stopped breathing next to me. I looked at him and he was just sitting there, staring wide-eyed and nostrils flared, more scared than I'd ever seen him, and I knew right then and there, before Benni had even played one note on his bass guitar, that I was going to hire him no matter what."

"What if he'd turned out to be horrible?" Mario chuckles against him.

"Lucky for me, he didn't," Marco says, smiling sheepishly. "He's actually quite impressive on the thing."

"I don't doubt that one bit."

They're silent for a few minutes, the faint music outside their window drowning out the sound of their breathing. Marco feels his chest close in on him when he realizes this is the last sprint before the finish line, their last few hours before Mario walks out on him forever. He feels himself struggle to breathe, spots blurring his vision as tears threaten to make their way down his cheeks, and he slides from under Mario and turns his back to him before he can see him.

"Marco?" Mario whispers behind him, straightening up and putting one careful hand on his back. 

Marco blinks away his tears without saying a word, refusing to shed any over this. He's had worse happen to him and he'd held himself together. After all, Mario is not dead. He takes one shaky breath after the other, the air burning his lungs and his heart seizing in his chest, but he feels himself relax against his will when Mario lies back down behind him before wrapping his arms around him, one hand sneaking up around his waist and combing through the light hairs below his navel, the other across his chest, resting on Marco's heart as he presses his forehead between his shoulder blades. His cool skin feels good against his back, soft and smooth and perfect against him, and he can't stop himself from holding his hands and intertwining their fingers, bringing the one over his heart briefly to his lips to blow a soft kiss to his knuckles.

"I wish things were different," he whispers brokenly. "I know I promised you this would be just a vacation fling but it never was." He can feel a wetness on his back where Mario presses soft lips to his shoulder blade, and he shuts his eyes tightly, trying hard to blink away the image of Mario crying. 

"I know," Mario whispers, his words tracing his back, tightening his grip on him and burying his face between his shoulder blades again. 

The last thing he feels before he drifts off to sleep is Mario sucking lightly on his skin, claiming him one last time. 

\-----

He startles awake hours later, his nightmare already forgotten but still so painfully disturbing, and he feels his stomach lurch painfully when he finds himself alone in bed, Mario's bags nowhere in sight, like he was never here, his black hoodie folded neatly at the edge of the bed the only sign that he was. Marco's struggling to breath, in part because of the nightmare but mostly because Mario's gone. When he takes one look at the still grey sky he thinks maybe it's not too late to catch him. He jumps out of bed and slips on the first pair of sweat pants he finds, taking the stairs two at a time, but there's no sign of any of them downstairs. He walks out of the house, barefoot and pale against the dawn outside, and he finds Manu slumped on the front steps, cheeks wet and eyes glistening against the faint light, and he feels his heart squeeze uncomfortably in his chest because he doesn't think he's ever seen his friend cry. He plops down next to him, his lungs aching against the fresh air, his heart hammering in his chest. Manu doesn't seem surprised to see him, clutching something tightly in his hand and watching the waves crash lightly against the harbor in front of them.

Benni finds them like this hours later, and when he helps them up their rooms, Marco finally notices the small note on Mario's hoodie. 

He stares at it for a long time, the words swimming in and out of focus as his mind tries to process the fact that the boy in whose arms he was just a few hours ago is now gone for good. When he moves again it's only to climb back into bed with Mario's hoodie, laying the note on the nightstand and burying his face in the soft fabric as he allows his mind to drift away, Mario's smell taking over his senses and the words on the note playing over in his head again and again.

_Marco,_

_You might not think that you're lucky to be alive, but I think I'm lucky that you are._

_Love, Sunny_

\-----

Marco often wonders if those ten days in Ibiza were just a dream. It mostly happens when he's alone at night, lying awake in his too-big bed in the middle of his too-dark room, and he wonders if Mario was always just a figment of his imagination, if those nights he imagines they spent together were just a creation of his mind to keep the loneliness at bay. He usually spends the rest of the night tossing and turning restlessly in his sheets, the thoughts and memories eating at his brain until he hears Manu laugh across the hall, probably over some stupid thing Thomas said over their Skype session, and he knows it wasn't all in his head. 

They've been back in New York for over three weeks now, the high temperatures starting to finally drop, hot summer days bleeding into cooler city nights, the streets alive and buzzing around them. Marco's been just kinda living since then, going through the motions of the day, the only fixture in his life Mario's black hoodie. He tells himself it's okay that he kinda lives in the thing, that New York's weather around this time is perfect for this kind of fabric. 

He writes a song called Sunny one night, about two people whose lives are turned upside down when they meet on vacation. He tosses it in the trashcan right after he's done, fishes it out a few minutes later and stashes it in his underwear drawer, right behind that glittery pair of briefs Mats got him once as a joke.

Manu asks him to come sit with him when he skypes with Thomas and David one afternoon and Marco obliges happily. He realizes just how much he's missed them when he actually sees their grinning faces on the screen, the easy conversation picking up like they'd just left eachother the day before. Marco feels a little bit better but so much worse, aware of just how close to Mario he is in that moment, his breath shaky as he takes in the glimpses of the living space behind them, the house where Mario lives and sleeps and eats. His heart sinks when he hears a door open and shut in the distance, Mario's faint voice through the speakers, and he feels himself physically pale before he bolts into his room and locks the door behind him, sinking to the ground and wondering if he'll ever truly be okay.

\-----

He makes up him mind on a Wednesday afternoon about two weeks later. He calls a band meeting, sits cross-legged on the floor of his penthouse and tells Mats and Benni and Manu all about his plan to take a year off, some time to work on some new material and new songs for his next album, asks them to come back home with him.

"Home?" Mats asks, eyebrows raised as he tries to follow Marco's train of thought.

"Back to Germany," Marco explains, his voice low but sure, and he knows Mats gets it, knows he won't argue or try to get him to change his mind. After all, he knew he wanted to marry Benni 25 seconds after meeting him. 

"We better start packing then," Mats hums after a minute, shrugging his shoulders and Marco tackles him to the ground, his laugh so loud he's sure the entire island of Manhattan hears it. 

\-----

They find themselves in Munich exactly four days later. Mats takes some time to settle the finer details with their label while Benni takes care of finding them a temporary hotel. 

Marco realizes what he's about to do only when he's standing outside the pub where Mario works, his nerves catching up to him as he feels himself shake like a leaf under his jacket. It's only about 7, too early for people to be there, but Thomas told Marco that David and Mario are always there around 6 to start prepping for their night. 

He sighs as he looks down at himself nervously, realizes he didn't even check himself in the mirror before he left the house. He thinks he looks fine probably, his light blue skinny jeans and black and yellow letterman jacket not the worst outfit he's pulled together. His hair's stashed away under his favorite lucky cap with the monkeys on it and he knows he can't stand there for a lot longer.

_Get your shit together, Reus._

He takes a deep breath, nervously tugging on his shirt before he walks in. The place is still completely empty save for two guys behind the bar.

"I'm sorry, we're still close-" David stops in his tracks when he looks up, his eyes widening before pretty much shouting in his surprise and walking towards him, jumping on Marco when he's close enough. "What are you doing here?!" He asks as he finally pulls himself away, his smile wide and genuine on his lips.

"Thought a change of scenery might do me some good," Marco shrugs, looking at his friend with an equally wide beam.

"I can't believe you're actually here!" David crows gleefully, wrapping his arms around Marco briefly again before pulling away. "Hey Thiago!" He calls out to the other guy, a short and stocky boy drying some glasses behind the bar. "Come meet Marco."

"I'm Thiago," the boy says, his smile easy and infectious, offering Marco a hand when he's close enough. "And you're famous."

"Thiago," Marco echoes, laughing lightly but choosing to ignore the second part. "The man with the big mouth, I presume. Marco."

"Ugh," he groans. "He's met your girlfriend, hasn't he?" Thiago asks, rolling his eyes at David.

"Girlfriend?" Marco quizzes, his eyebrows disappearing in his hairline.

"Oh, sorry," Thiago continues, looking from Marco to David a little confused. "I just assumed you knew Ann-Kathrin."

"No, yeah," Marco shakes his head a little. "I do know her. Your girlfriend Ann?" He asks again, turning to look at David, his eyes wide and an entirely too happy grin lighting up his features. 

"She's hardly my girlfriend," David shrugs, the smile completely taking over his face. "We've been going out for about two weeks now," he admits finally and Marco feels his grin grow even wider. 

"Hey guys, could you help me grab some bottl-" Mario stops dead in his tracks, his words dying on his tongue and his eyes widening when they spot Marco standing in the middle of the small pub where he works, dropping the several hundred napkins he's holding.

Marco, to his credit, manages to not faint the minute he hears his voice, though he's pretty sure his heart stops beating when their eyes meet. 

Mario looks good. So much better than Marco remembers him, in a pair of dark jeans tight enough to hug his toned legs deliciously and a thin light grey shirt that does wonders to his body, his dog tags hanging loosely around his neck. He's wearing his favorite white high tops, his hair perfectly done, and Marco just wants to kiss him.

"What are you doing here?" Mario asks, staring at him with wide questioning eyes, the smile that has come to haunt Marco's dreams nowhere in sight. 

Marco can't say anything for a while, his mouth opening and closing not unlike a fish out of water, his eyes taking the boy in front of him in, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he realizes just how much he's missed him.

Mario steps over the mess of napkins on the floor and takes a few steps towards him, blinking a few times and then narrowing his eyes a little like he's trying to make sure Marco's really there before he stops a few feet away from him. 

Marco almost forgets they're not alone until David clears his throat, pulling a confused Thiago by the hand and disappearing behind the door Mario just came out of. 

"What are you doing here?" Mario asks again, his voice low and hoarse and fuck Marco's missed him so much.

"I-" Marco starts before he stops to clear his throat not really sure how to go. He planned everything except this. Everything except what he would say to Mario when he saw him. "I don't know," he sighs.

"You don't know what you're doing in Munich?" Mario asks, an incredulous tone to his voice, the hint of a smile on his face.

"That's a lie," Marco admits with a small smile, taking a step closer towards him. "I do know what I'm doing here. I just don't know how to tell you without freaking you out."

"Tell me what?"

"Look, Mario," Marco starts nervously, taking a deep breath and closing the distance between them until he's so close to Mario he can touch him if he wants to. "I know you think this is crazy. I know what we had in Ibiza was always meant to stay there, that we should've been perfectly able to go on with our lives after, to file it away like the really good memory it probably is. But I can't stop thinking about you. Literally. It actually physically hurts when I try, and most times I don't even want to. This," he continues, not taking his eyes away from Mario's as he moves his index finger back and forth between them, "you and me, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense. We don't even know each other that well. But I know that I want to give it a try. Out here, in the real world."

"Marco," Mario sighs gently, his eyes softening as he takes him in.

"I'm moving here," he gets in hurriedly. "We all are," he adds. "Me, Mats, Benni and Manu. At least for a year. I've been looking to settle somewhere for a while, and I've always thought about moving back to Germany one day, Mats and I have always talked about it. I can still make music here, there are good studios and excellent producers and I can always hop on a plane to London if need be. My label is fine with it, they'd probably consider letting me live on the moon before dropping me. I'm not saying this is going to be easy, if things work out I might have to go on tour next year and- God , this is crazy, I barely know you, I'm turning my life upside down here for a guy, but I don't care. If there's anyone I ever want to turn my life you upside down for, it's you."

They're both quiet for a while, Marco's breathing labored as he tries not to imagine the worst case scenario, tries not to think of Mario laughing in his face and completely blowing him off. He's apparently completely wrong though, because the next minute Mario is on him, the force of him nearly making Marco lose his balance, his arms wrapped tightly around Marco's shoulders as he buries his face in his neck, standing on the tip of his toes as they sway a little in their spot.

"God, I missed you," Mario mumbles into his neck and Marco feels his heart squeeze as he finally puts his arms around his middle, holding on so tightly he thinks he might cut off his blood circulation, burying his face in Mario's hair, his skin prickling as he just _feels_ the boy around him, his smell and the feel of him against his own body better than anything he's felt before.

They pull away after a few minutes, only a little to allow their lips to meet and Marco feels like the last piece of the puzzle he's been building his entire life has just slotted itself in place. 

"How has this romantic cheese-fest become my life?" Mario asks after a second, pulling away with laughter in his voice and Marco protests a little, his lips feeling suddenly cold. 

"I'm a musician," Marco shrugs. "Romantic crap is in my blood."

"You're lucky I like you so much," Mario smiles brightly and Marco feels his heart stop, that damn smile that started it all knocking the breath out of him.

"Well, I'm glad you like me so much because I'm looking for a place to stay for a few days, until Mats finds us an appropriate place to live."

"My apartment is kinda small," Mario says and Marco feels his spirits drop a little. "It's going to be awesome watching you struggle to manage in a house that only has two bathrooms and one kitchen," he raises his eyebrows and Marco breathes a sigh of relief before laughing lightly. "Where's the rest of your brood?"

"Mats and Benni are resting in some ridiculous hotel suite somewhere in Munich," Marco shrugs, his hands moving up and down Mario's waist. "And I'm pretty sure Manu and Thomas are christening every room in your house right now."

"Expected," Mario says simply, his smile happier than Marco's seen it before, pulling up on his toes again to press another kiss to Marco's lips. They both sigh into it, Marco feeling a peace in him when Mario presses their foreheads together he's never felt before. "This is crazy," Mario adds after a moment, his voice soft as he looks up at Marco, he fingers playing with the hairs on the back of Marco's neck. 

"I know," Marco agrees, closing his eyes for a minute and allowing Mario to pull him into another hug. "I can stay at a hotel until we find a place to live," he mumbles into Mario's neck, not really sure how he's ever going to be able to stop touching Mario ever again.

"And deny Ann the chance to take a selfie with you in her bedroom? Are you crazy? She's going to flip when she finds out you're going to be staying with us for a while." 

"And you?" Marco asks, pulling away to look him over.

"I've had better offers," he shrugs, rolling his eyes. "But this'll do for now."

 


End file.
